


Against the Dying of the Light

by coupdepam



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-08
Updated: 2006-02-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupdepam/pseuds/coupdepam
Summary: There's something wrong with the coffee...





	1. Against the Dying of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Chapter One

Sam had stopped off to get a coffee on his way to work hoping that the caffeine rush would help him to finish the speech he was working on. He was stuck, he was more that stuck he was blocked. He stood up again and walked to the doorway of Toby’s office. “I’m going to finish my coffee, then I’m going to open my mail, then I’m going to start writing.”

Toby didn’t look up. “The first two are avoidance strategies and the last one you should have started an hour ago.”

“I’m not avoiding writing. I’m easing into it.”

“Well can you ease into it quickly because we need the first draft finished today?”

“Okay.” Sam turned and walked out of Toby’s office. “I’m easing into it, Ginger.”

“I can see that.” Ginger was busy at her desk and like Toby, didn’t look up at Sam.

“I’m just going to finish my coffee, then I’m going to open my mail, then I’m going to start,” Sam took a swig from the cup, “and you better be ready, Ginger, because it might look like I’m avoiding writing but actually I’m about to burst forth with meaningful phrases and concise points, well made.”

“Do I need to be ready just yet or have I got time to go to the restroom?” 

“You’ve probably got a few minutes,” Sam said to her retreating form before returning to his office. He sat behind his desk and picked up the pile of mail he had brought from home. He opened one and threw it straight into the bin then placed a handwritten letter from a friend to one side. The next letter he opened, it was a telephone bill and he scanned the list of numbers. “What the-” he pulled out his cell phone and started scrolling through the numbers. “Ah,” he said as he realised the number with the ridiculously high amount of call time was Toby’s new phone. He picked up his coffee and grimaced at its unusually bitter taste. The screen of his laptop lurched from side to side and Sam shook his head and took another swig of coffee. He decided to put off starting by phoning Margaret and asking if Leo would be free later in the day.

As his hand touched the phone his office appeared to tilt ninety degrees before righting itself. Sam rubbed at his eyes and tried again. This time the phone seemed to move out of his reach. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard at the swell of nausea that rose in him. The taste of coffee and something that he didn’t recognise rose in his throat. He lifted the Styrofoam cup to his nose. It smelled normal but the taste in his mouth had now intensified, making him want to retch. His office was spinning and he rose and started to pace haphazardly. Sam covered his ears at the noise of his phone ringing. The lights suddenly seemed too bright and he winced as with one hand on the wall, he guided himself out of his office and into Toby’s.

“I don’t feel very well,” was all Sam could manage to say.

“Do you want me to write a note for Phys Ed? Just start the draft already.” 

Sam stared at Toby and willed him to lift his head and look at him. He clung onto the filing cabinet for support. “Toby.” 

Toby sighed, finished the sentence he was on and then looked up at his deputy. The sight that greeted him shocked him and for a while he was unable to move. Sam stood holding onto the cabinet. His face was ashen and his body was trembling violently. The worst thing though was the look of fear in his eyes. Toby rushed to his side. He grabbed hold of Sam who collapsed in his arms. He tried to get him to the sofa but Sam was unable to make it and collapsed on the floor in front of it instead. 

“Don’t go,” Sam mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’m here, it’s alright.”

“No,” Sam was trying hard to control his breathing, “don’t go…my office…coffee…think…coffee bad,” Sam could hardly string a sentence together but Toby understood what he was trying to say.

“Ginger!” She was used to hearing her name shouted but not in the tone Toby had just used. “Call an ambulance- lock Sam’s office. Don’t go in.” Ginger nodded and set about her tasks.

Toby had one arm around Sam’s back. The other was being gripped firmly by Sam. He prised Sam’s hand off in order to loosen his tie and undo the top buttons of his shirt. When he had finished Toby let Sam take his hand and tried not to flinch when he felt his fingers being crushed together. Sam was sweating and shaking uncontrollably.

“Try to relax, Sam.” Toby brought his hand further up and rubbed the top of Sam’s back. “Are you in pain?” Toby hoped this was an asthma or panic attack but a deeper part of him knew Sam had been a victim of something horrific, he just didn’t know what. “Sam, does it hurt?” Toby repeated.

Sam nodded and squeezed his eyes shut as the pain intensified. When it had passed he mumbled, “Back…back hurts…legs…hurts.” He groaned and pulled his knees in to his stomach as he rolled towards Toby.

“Shit,” Toby said but realized that probably wasn’t very comforting for Sam. He stretched his legs out and pulled Sam upright until his head was against his chest. Toby could hear Ginger talking to Donna and knew that it meant the imminent arrival of Josh. Sure enough Josh quickly appeared at Sam’s side. 

Sam was leaning against Toby but turned his head towards Josh. “Did…tell you…don’t go in my office?”

Toby ignored Josh’s confused expression and answered for him. “Stop worrying about that, Sam. Your office is locked.”

“Good…tasted funny -” another wave of pain swept through Sam making his body jack-knife against Josh. Sam moaned and Josh grabbed hold of him, desperate to help but unable to do anything more than hold on as wave after wave of pain coursed through him. Suddenly, Sam’s back arched and Toby and Josh could only look on helplessly as convulsions racked his body. Sam’s moans filled the Bullpen and drew curious staffers to Toby’s window. After a few moments the convulsions stopped and Sam fell exhaustedly back to the floor.

“What’s wrong with him?” Josh asked in a horrified whisper. Before Toby could answer, Ron came rushing into the room and knelt down beside Sam.

“Sam, look at me.” Sam opened his eyes and tied to focus on the new voice. “I need you to tell me what happened.” Ron spoke calmly but forcefully, knowing that Sam’s ability to talk was rapidly fading.

“What happened…,” Sam repeated.

“Sam, Listen. You need to tell me what’s in your office.”

Another wave of pain hit Sam. He could feel Toby’s hand on his back and knew his head was on Josh’s lap but he couldn’t place the voice that was talking to him in such urgent tones. Another voice cut through his haze of pain. “Sam, it’s okay, we’re here. It’s going to be okay.”

Sam opened his eyes again at the sound of CJ’s voice. Next to her he could see a man with a moustache. “Ron?” he asked.

“That’s right, Sam. I need to know what happened.”

One of Sam’s hands was gripping Josh’s shirt. The other was taken by CJ. Sam held it tightly it and focused on her as he answered Ron. “Don’t know…coffee tasted…don’t know…knew something wrong…tasted wrong…”

“What coffee? Where did you get it, Sam?” 

“Something’s...wrong...tasted-” Sam tightened his hold on CJ’s hand as the pain intensified. 

“What did it taste like? Sam! Look at me, Sam. What did it taste like?”

Sam curled into a ball and gasped. Josh cursed and flashed a helpless look at Toby.

“What did it taste-”

“Bit…bit…” the pain had lessened but Sam was gasping for breath. 

“Bitter?” Ron asked and at Sam’s nod he squeezed his shoulder, told him he had done well, stood up and left the room.

Toby glanced at CJ and noticing the pained expression on her face, he leant forward and unclasped Sam’s hand from hers, replacing it with his own. CJ smiled gratefully at him and placed her freed hand on Sam’s head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” she murmured. Josh looked down at Sam and tried to force the memories of CJ soothing him at Rosslyn out of his mind. 

“What the hell happened?” Leo entered the room but remained by the door. No one answered him.

Ginger stood in the doorway holding a glass of water for Sam. When the first paramedic entered the room she was jostled to the side, oblivious to the water that slurped over the edge of the cup. 

“Sam! Can you hear me? I need you to look at me, Sam.” The paramedic let Josh remain where he was only asking him to lower Sam to the floor. There was no room for Toby and he rose reluctantly and perched on the sofa. “That’s it, Sam. Now keep your eyes open. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Sam couldn’t feel Toby anymore, only Josh’s hand. He looked up but there was only ceiling above him and the face of a man he didn’t recognise.

The paramedic repeated his question as his partner began to put an IV in Sam’s arm and place an oxygen mask over his face. “You’re doing great, Sam, keep looking at me and tell me where you hurt.”

“Back…stomach…breathe…”

“It hurts when you breathe?” Sam nodded in reply. “On a scale of one to ten, where’s your pain?”

“Ten,” Sam answered without hesitation. “Breathe...can’t…”

“I know and we’re going to give you some oxygen to help with that, I need you to take nice, deep breaths for me.”

Sam managed two breaths before a wave of pain made him cry out and curl into a ball. One of the paramedics struggled with the IV line while the other turned Sam onto his back and tried to get his attention again. The paramedic muttered something to her partner as Sam’s eyes widened and his back once more arched from the floor. The paramedics seemed ready for it though and rescued the IV line talking soothingly as Sam cried out. Eventually Sam’s body relaxed once more and he could feel Josh’s hand clasp his again. Tears ran down his face but Sam didn’t care. He felt a warm hand brush them away, he didn’t know whose.

Ron came back into the room. He had spoken to the paramedics on their way in and knew that there was nothing more he could do here. He took the key from Ginger and left the room. Sam could hear voices that he recognised but the voices that he didn’t recognise were closer. He tried to listen to them but all he could focus on was the pain and the fact that he was finding it impossible to draw a breath. 

“Can’t…can’t,” Sam murmured. He knew he was being told to do something but whatever it was he couldn’t do it. “Can’t…go away…leave me alone…can’t.”

Josh watched helplessly as Sam was lifted onto the gurney and strapped in. He heard Sam call his name and called out to him but his voice sounded far away to him and so he replied again louder. “I’m right here, I’m coming with you.” He followed the paramedics from the room oblivious to CJ’s instructions to phone as soon as he knew something.

Toby followed Sam out to the entrance of the West Wing, staying close to the gurney until it was loaded into the ambulance. There were three ambulances outside. Toby wondered if that was a normal response to a call-out to the White House but then he saw another gurney being wheeled towards one of them. He walked quickly up to the driver of the third ambulance. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that we had three separate call-outs, something going on if you ask me.”

“You think?” Toby answered, but his usual biting sarcasm was less effective with the shadow of fear in his voice. He walked quickly back to the West Wing, intent on finding Ron and getting answers.

 

Josh blocked out the sounds of the sirens. It wasn’t difficult as the sounds of Sam’s moans were filling the ambulance. Sam was past being aware of where he was or who was with him. All he knew was that his head and stomach were exploding and every breath felt like his last. Josh kept hold of his hand anyway and continued to talk to him. The ambulance stopped and the doors swung open, the sudden sunlight making Josh close his eyes. He followed as far as he could but was turned away from the room that Sam was wheeled into and led to a waiting room. He sat down, stood up again and paced for a while before returning to his seat once more.

 

Leo raised his hand and beckoned Toby in when he saw him standing at the door to his office. Toby cursed silently as he listened to Ron talking to Leo. He should have realised that the situation would result in a crash and now he wouldn’t be able to get out of the building to get to the hospital. He focused again on Ron’s words.

“…three have been taken to hospital- Sam, Ben Canton who’s a member of the press corps and Julia Swan who works in the East Wing. So far we can’t find any link between them. I’ve got people checking on any staffers who called in sick today.”

“And these other two, they had the same symptoms as Sam?” Leo asked.

“As far as we can tell, obviously the hospital will be able to tell us more. I have to be honest, Leo, I have no idea what we’re dealing with here. The President’s in the Residence and-” Ron was interrupted by his phone. “Are you sure? Hold on-” he looked up at Toby, “Did Sam go to the Mess this morning?”

“No he came straight in, no, hold on, I can’t be sure of that.”

“Shut it down,” Ron ordered into his cell. “Yes, all of them…well that’s tough…you’re kidding me…calm him down and then find out if Ben, Julia or Sam went in there this morning.” Ron put the phone back in his pocket. “One of the cooks is in a state because he thinks the chicken soup was past its best.”

“I think we’re dealing with something a little more sinister than out of date soup here,” Leo said. 

“So do I, but right now, discovering a serious bout of food poisoning would make me a happy man,” Ron said as he made his way out of the office and headed for the Residence.

Toby looked at Leo and waited for him to say something. He waited for a few moments more before he realised Leo was waiting for him to do the same. Margaret entered and ended the wordless stalemate by telling Leo that he was needed in the Residence. Toby left and walked back to the Communications Bullpen. He couldn’t help but jump as a man dressed in what appeared to be a spacesuit entered Sam’s office and started removing items from his desk. 

Ginger appeared at his side. “I’m meant to find out if Sam went to the Mess this morning. I went to the desk and it says he signed in at 6:58. Do you know what time you saw him arrive?”

Toby thought for a moment, walking absently into his office. “I do know! I was watching CNN and Daybreak had just finished when I saw Sam go into his office. It finishes at seven so Sam can’t have been to the Mess in that time.”

Ginger smiled with relief, glad that she had something to tell the agent that might be of use. Toby sat down at his desk and switched CNN back on. It was now halfway through American Morning and the main story was the ambulances called to the White House. Toby grabbed for the remote and switched it off.

 

Josh had been joined in the waiting room by Ben Canton’s wife and Julia Swan’s husband. He didn’t join in their conversation as they tried to make sense of what could have caused their partner to leave the house perfectly fine and be rushed to hospital less than an hour later. 

A doctor entered the room instantly silencing the conversation and causing Josh to stand up. “Mrs Canton, can I speak to you outside please?” 

Josh closed his eyes as the sound of Mrs Canton’s wails filtered into the room. He didn’t need to be outside to know what the doctor had told her. He looked up to find Julia Swan’s husband staring at him and he looked away. After a few moments a different doctor entered the waiting room and asked Josh to step outside. Josh was so certain that he was about to be told that Sam was dead that he had to ask the doctor to repeat what he said to him.

“I said you can see Mr Seaborn in a while.” As they walked towards the ICU unit, the doctor told Josh that they were running tests but he was pretty certain that Sam had ingested strychnine. So shocked was he by the doctor’s words that Josh just nodded and asked about Julia Swan. The doctor would only say that she was holding her own.

“What about Sam, is he holding his own?”

“Mr Seaborn is very sick at the moment. His breathing hasn’t improved and he’s in a lot of pain. We’re also having problems stopping his convulsions. We’re doing all we can.”

Josh hated hearing those words especially as the tone of the doctor’s voice led him to suspect what they were doing was not enough. Josh walked towards Sam’s bed and tried to ignore the wires and tubes attached to his body. Sam’s eyes were closed but his hand moved restlessly on the blanket. Josh sat beside the bed and reached out and took hold it. Sam opened his eyes and looked around the room before resting on Josh.

“They don’t know,” Sam mumbled. Josh had to strain to hear him.

“They’re doing some tests, Sam.”

“Fri…” Sam began and Josh silently pleaded with him not to say it. “Frightened,” he managed and Josh closed his eyes before tightening his hold on Sam’s hand.

“It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.” He knew how bad some must feel to admit his fear so readily to Josh. “I’m here, I’ll stay.”

“Stay,” Sam echoed and his hand gripped Josh’s as his face scrunched up in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asked, sitting upright.

“Don’t know,” Sam said, “they don’t know.”

“Jesus,” Josh mumbled and he reached over and placed his other hand on Sam’s head.

“Stay,” Sam repeated and Josh nodded and moved his chair closer to the bed.


	2. Against the Dying of the Light 2

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Two 

Ron was keeping the White House in crash mode. He walked quickly along the portico towards the Residence. The remains of the coffee that had been in Sam’s room had been taken away to be analysed. So far he hadn’t been able to find out if the other two victims had drunk coffee as well that morning. One thing he was sure of though was that Sam had brought the coffee into the White House. The cup was not one that anyone recognised and the security camera footage showed him walking in with the cup. As he walked along the portico, Ron thought about the other two victims and made a mental note to get their routes to work. He knew that if the coffee was to blame then tracking down where they had bought it as soon as possible was vital. By the time he had reached the entrance to the Residence he had even more bad news to tell the President. An agent had stopped him to tell him that Ben Canton had died and that another three victims had been taken to hospital with similar symptoms.

 

Sam hadn’t spoken since asking Josh to stay. Curtains had been pulled around the bed and the bedside lamp had been switched off. The nurse explained that sensory stimulation could cause convulsions and after hearing that, Josh had kept rigid in his chair for fear of causing more.

Sam moaned and shifted and Josh sprung to his feet forgetting his effort to keep as still as possible. “Okay?” Josh asked as Sam peered up at him.

“Dark,” Sam mumbled.

“It’s to make you feel better.” Sam had had convulsions in the ER but none since Josh had been with him and he planned on keeping it that way. “You need to just lie still and try to relax and lie still and just…” Josh didn’t know what Sam needed to do. He looked back at Sam who was staring up at him and tried to force a comforting smile.

“When…did…when they…”

Josh listened patiently as Sam tried to ask him something but shushed him when it was clear he was just making himself more agitated. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about anything. Just lie still.” Without taking his eyes from Sam, Josh felt behind him for the chair and slowly sat back down. A nurse entered, checked equipment, recorded a few notes and left. Josh glanced at the clock. One hour. It had only been one hour since Donna had burst into his office and told him that Sam was sick. One hour since he’d been sat in Toby’s office, watching helplessly as Sam’s back arched up from the floor. 

Sam’s moan made Josh jump and he stood again and hovered over the bed. The sudden convulsions were violent and the sound of Sam’s cries drowned out the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. Josh made way for the doctor and nurses who entered the room and resisted the urge to cover his ears. The nurses worked quickly to keep the wires and tubes attached to Sam, providing a steady stream of comforting words as they did so. Josh fought his desire to look away knowing that however hard it was for him to witness the fit it was a hundred times harder for Sam to experience. Eventually the rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall slowed and then stopped. A doctor worked hard to get Sam’s attention and Josh waited for one of the nurses to leave before returning to Sam’s bedside. 

“Sam, open your eyes please. Sam, Sam, can you hear me?” Exhausted by the fit, all Sam could do was nod in reply. “Sam, we’re going to give you something different to stop the convulsions and we’re going to increase your pain meds, okay?” Sam nodded again and the doctor seemed satisfied with his sluggish responses. 

Josh sat back down and reached out for Sam’s hand and hoped the shaking of his own wouldn’t be noticed. Sam opened his eyes slightly and peered up at Josh. The doctor returned and injected two drugs into Sam. “That will stop the convulsions, Sam.” He came round to Josh’s side of the bed and called Sam’s name again. Josh shook Sam’s hand and finally he opened his eyes and peered up at the stranger beside his bed. 

“Sam, I’m Dr Keel. You’re having convulsions and difficulty breathing because you’ve ingested a large amount of strychnine. I know you’re in a lot of pain and the convulsions are frightening but we’re doing all we can to make you as comfortable as possible. I’ve given you something which should stop the pain. Is the oxygen making breathing easier?”

Again, Sam nodded and his eyes remained fixed on the doctor who was talking so slowly and in such a reassuring tone.

“Good, that’s good. All you need to do is try to relax and breathe normally through the mask. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sam replied and closed his eyes again. 

The doctor moved away from the bed and placed his hand on Josh’s shoulder. He nodded towards the door. They walked towards a row of plastic seats and Josh waited silently for the doctor to tell him whatever it was that he didn’t want to say in front of Sam.

“Does Sam have any family in Washington?”

“Not in DC, his mum and dad live in California.”

“It might be an idea to call them if you haven’t already.” Dr Keel tried to ignore the fact that the colour had seeped from Josh’s face. “Six victims of strychnine poisoning have been admitted this morning. Three have died. Sam has ingested a large amount. It’s vital we stop the seizures as the longer they continue the greater the chance of brain damage and a worsening of the respiratory problems he is experiencing at the moment. I’ve administered a dr-”

“You’re telling me he could die?” Josh interrupted even though he knew what the answer would be.

“I’m telling you that the prognosis for strychnine poisoning is good if the patient's condition can be maintained over the first six to twelve hours but we’re having problems maintaining Sam’s. He hasn’t responded to the drugs we would normally use to control seizures and as a result of that, the damage to his lungs, the intense pain he is in and the other effects of strychnine in his system means his condition is deteriorating. I’m telling you that I think you should contact his family.”

Josh nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I need to phone his friends as well but it’s…the White House is in lockdown they can’t leave. I need to phone his friends.”

Dr Keel placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder and returned to Sam. Josh stood up on shaking legs and made his way to the exit. He phoned the Communications Office first and asked Ginger to get the numbers for Sam’s parents and call him back. He paused before dialling Toby’s number. 

Toby grabbed for the phone and picked it up before it had rung twice. “How is he?”

“He’s not good, Toby. He’s…they don’t think…the doctors, they can’t get him stabilised. They told me to phone his parents. They said he needs to get through the next twelve hours but they can’t... Jesus, Toby, I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

Toby didn’t answer. He knew he should be trying to calm Josh down but his gaze was locked on the paperweight on his desk. The sunlight was catching it and sending shards of purple light across the wooden surface. He heard Josh’s voice and closed his eyes. “I’m here, sorry, I need to see Ron and get out of here.” Toby was about to hang up when he pulled the receiver back to his ear. “Josh! Tell Sam I’m on my way.” 

 

Leo listened patiently to Toby’s rant about needing to let him out of the building. He listened and then he told him that Ron had just ended the lockdown. Toby told Leo he would have got out of the building lockdown or not and Leo had no doubt that he would have. He told Toby to keep him updated. A few moments after Toby left, he looked up and saw his old friend standing in the doorway between their offices. “Tell me how Sam is, Leo, and don’t tell me the version that you think will keep me from wanting to go to the hospital.”

 

After taking Ginger’s call and phoning Sam’s parents, Josh returned to the ICU where he found two doctors that he hadn’t seen before and a nurse. Josh watched her adjust Sam’s oxygen mask. Sam’s eyes followed her movements carefully before finding Josh. “Just…me?”

“What?” Josh asked and then realised what he meant. “No, there were a couple of others I think.” Josh hoped Sam wouldn’t ask anymore about them, he certainly didn’t want to tell him that three of the others had died. 

He needn’t have worried as Sam’s attention was diverted by one of the doctors who waited for the nurse to leave before moving closer to the bed.

“Sam, I’m Dr Keel I spoke to you earlier and this is Dr Nashton who is a specialist from Chicago and spending a few days with us.”

Josh noticed that he didn’t say what Dr Nashton was a specialist in. 

“I just want to ask you a few questions.” Doctor Keel said as he moved closer to the bed. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“Hospital,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay, that’s good, Sam. You’re at George Washington in the ICU. Can you tell me what day it is?”

Sam frowned. “Tuesday?”

“Are you sure?” the doctor said.

“Wednesday,” Sam said again just as uncertain.

“Okay.” Dr Keel glanced at his colleague and a look passed between them that Josh couldn’t decipher. They talked quietly using terms and language that made their conversation almost foreign sounding. Finally Dr Keel turned back to Sam. “Dr Nashton is going to ask you some questions now.” 

Josh felt Sam squeeze his hand.

“Sam, I need to know about your pain. We’ll work on a scale of one to ten. One is no pain and ten is severe pain. Where are you now?”

“Eight…think…eight,” Sam said.

“Okay, well that’s higher than I’d like so let’s do something about that.” He spoke to the nurse who was standing by the end of the bed. “What day is it, Sam?”

“Sunday?” Sam answered and this time there was no mistaking the look that passed between the two doctors. They told Sam to relax and try to breathe normally and again Josh was beckoned from the room.

“Mr Lyman, I understand that your colleague was at work when he became ill. Before the paramedics arrived, how many times did he have convulsions?”

“He’s not my colleague,” Josh replied.

“I’m sorry. I thought you worked at the White House with Mr Seaborn?”

“I do, that’s not what I- he’s my friend.”

“I see, okay, I’m sorry. Can you tell me how-”

“Once, he had them once.”

“Okay, I need to talk to Dr Keel. Go back in, be with your friend.”

Josh silently prayed that Toby or CJ would turn up soon and he wouldn’t have to cope with this on his own. He sat back down beside the bed and again reached for Sam’s hand and squeezed. Sam nodded slightly as he felt the pressure but didn’t open his eyes. Josh watched the fall and rise of Sam’s chest and tried hard to ignore the sounds of the ICU unit and sight of the tubes running from Sam’s nose or the wires attached to his chest or the line running from his wrist to a pole by the side of the bed.

“It’s alright, Sam, you just need to get the strychnine out of your system and you’ll be out of here in no time. Toby’s on his way. He told me to tell you.”

Josh could see the effort it took Sam just to open his eyes. He watched as Sam looked first at him and then around the room. “Where am I?”

Josh smiled and hoped the unease he felt at Sam’s words didn’t show on his face. “You’re in the hospital. You got ill at work, remember?”

A puzzled frown was Sam’s reply. “Toby’s here?” Before Josh could answer the frown deepened. “Don’t feel…feel so good.”

“Where, what, how not good?” 

Sam could see Josh was getting into a state and wanted to tell him to calm down but the pain in his chest and stomach were rendering him incapable of doing anything. He reached over and tried to pat Josh’s hand, a reassuring pat to tell him everything would be fine but somehow his hand would only move as far as the rail beside his bed and anyway, Josh wasn’t looking worried anymore, he was shouting. Sam couldn’t tell what Josh was saying but he knew he was shouting because his mouth was opening wide and his eyes were wide also. He tried again to tell Josh to calm down but no words came. Josh was disappearing, fading in and out in front of him. The tremors that ran through his body flung it from the bed in an arch and overpowered him. Sam couldn’t feel Josh’s hands on him anymore. There were other hands though and a man’s voice, calm and strong telling Sam to hold on.

He listened to the voice, tried to focus on it. The sheer pain he felt made it impossible though. Even his lungs were rebelling against him, refusing to allow him to breathe. Gradually, his movements ceased and Sam became aware once more of the voice, its constant tone acting as a lifeline to pull himself back on. He felt a hand on his head stroking his hair and that was more soothing than the voice so he focused on that instead. The oxygen mask was adjusted, his IV was straightened and still Sam didn’t move. The voice had stopped and another one had taken its place. Sam knew it and he tried to concentrate on giving it a name. He could feel that both his hands were held now but couldn’t summon the energy to open his eyes. 

“I’m here, Sam, you want to open your eyes for me, make my mad dash across DC worthwhile?” 

Sam’s eyes opened slightly, enough for him to see people sitting on either side of his bed. One was Josh. He knew that because Josh was always there when he opened his eyes. The other person leant forward and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You hang in there, Sam. You’re going to be fine,” Toby said quietly as he sat back in his chair, avoiding Josh’s lost expression opposite him and the concerned face of the doctor who stood beside him.

“I’m here, Sam, you want to open your eyes for me, make my mad dash across DC worthwhile?” 

Sam’s eyes opened slightly, enough for him to see people sitting on either side of his bed. One was Josh; he knew that because Josh was always there when he opened his eyes. The other person leant forward and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam recognised the figure as it drew nearer to him. He smiled ever so slightly and mumbled a hello. 

“You hang in there, Sam. You’re going to be fine,” Toby said quietly as he sat back in his chair, avoiding Josh’s lost expression opposite him and the concerned face of the doctor who stood beside him. 


	3. Against the Dying of the Light 3

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Three Josh and Toby didn't say much to each other as they sat by Sam's bed. Josh updated Toby on Ginger's efforts to contact Sam's parents: Sam had never updated a contact number for his father and there was no answer at his mother’s home. Toby had told Josh what the doctors had said. Apart from that they had sat in silence, watching the clock and wondering if Sam's current condition counted as stable. He didn't look very stable to Toby. His breathing was noisy and strained, he was pale, shaking, increasingly unaware of where he was, and had suffered another two attacks of convulsions since Toby had arrived. It was twelve o'clock, five hours since Sam had first become ill and seven hours away from seven pm. Ever since Dr Keel had told Josh that a victim of strychnine poisoning who was stabilised within six to twelve hours would be likely to survive, he had become acutely aware of each second that passed that seemed to tick towards a worsening, and not an improvement, in Sam's condition. Dr Keel entered the room and studied the nurse's latest additions to Sam's chart before walking over to the phone on the wall and asking for an anaesthetist to be paged. He walked back to the bed and called Sam's name sternly but spoke more gently when Sam's eyes opened and his gaze drifted over Josh and Toby before settling on the doctor. "Sam, we need to stop the convulsions you're having and the drugs we've tried aren't working as well as we'd like. We're going to give you something to make you sleep and in a couple of hours we'll wake you. We need to make your breathing easier so we're going to put a tube in your mouth to do that. We'll put it in when you're asleep but when you wake up it will still be there." Sam didn't really understand what the doctor was saying but he knew that he was going to be put to sleep. Dogs were put to sleep. He'd had a dog that had been put to sleep. Ruby was just too old to be happy anymore. That's what his dad had told him. It was kinder to let Ruby sleep than to keep living like she was. "Ruby...too old...kinder to put sleep...make me sleep." Dr Keel frowned. "Sam, do you understand what I'm going to do?" Sam nodded slowly. "Put me to sleep...don't care...just...just...want it stop." "Oh, God, Sam, listen he's not putting you to sleep. Listen to me." Toby leant over Sam. "He's going to make you sleep so that you feel better and then he's going to wake you up, okay. You're going to wake up." "I'm not too old." "Not too old, Sam, you just need to go to sleep for a while." "Okay, but wake me up." "I'll wake you up," Toby promised and he caught Josh's eye and saw his own fear that it was a promise he couldn't keep reflected there. The anaesthetist arrived and Josh stood and moved out of the way but Toby stayed where he was. "Why is he so confused?" Dr Keel knew enough about Toby Ziegler to know that an answer designed to simply mollify him wouldn't be enough. He also knew that he wouldn't be going anywhere until he had answered the question. "Confusion can be a symptom of strychnine poisoning but convulsions cause a lack of oxygen to the brain and the longer they continue the greater the risk of brain damage which is why we need to do this now, to minimise that risk." Still Toby didn't move. "Are the risks greater than any from putting Sam under like this?" "Yes." Toby nodded and happy with the doctor's answer immediately moved away from the bed. Since his arrival Toby had taken control. Josh had coped with so much of the stress of the morning that he was glad that someone else was taking charge. He let Toby badger the doctor into allowing both of them to stay to sit with Sam whilst the drug was administered and he listened as Toby told Sam where they were and what was going to happen. It was only when the anaesthetist sat beside the bed and Sam looked at him in confusion that Josh spoke up again. "It's okay, Sam, look at me. Toby's here, we're both still here." The anaesthetist injected the drug. "Tell him to count to ten," he told Josh as he carefully monitored Sam's heart rate. "Okay, Sam, count to ten with me. One...two...three...four...five...six..." Josh stopped as Sam's eyes closed and he felt his hand relax. Josh let it fall back onto the bed and moved to stand behind Toby as they watched the doctor gently pull back Sam’s head and insert the tube. The anaesthetist announced he would be staying for a while and the nurse suggested that Josh and Toby take a break. "You should go back to the office, Josh. We've got a few hours until Sam wakes up. There's nothing you can do here." "What are you going to do?" Josh asked as he picked up his bag and coat. "Stay here. I can get Ginger to bring some work over. I need to write a statement for CJ. I'll need to talk to the doctors to find out about the others who were poisoned. CJ will probably want to come over but tell her to wait until later this afternoon. I'll send over what I've done." Toby followed Josh down the corridor and towards the exit. "You did well this morning. I know it can't have been easy." "Is that stable when he's like that? Does that mean they've got him stable?" Toby didn't answer. "Don't forget to tell CJ not to come. She'll want to but she needs to stay there." Josh nodded and swung his bag over his shoulder. He looked like he hadn't slept in days although it had only been five hours since he had arrived at the hospital. "Ben Canton, Jeff Dudley and Carol Harper." Ron placed the names of the people who had died that morning back into his pocket and waited for the President to reply. Bartlet shook his head and sat down behind his desk. "Okay." He called for Charlie and told him to get him the numbers of their partners. "And parents," Ron added, "Carol Harper was sixteen. She was spending a day with her father on a school work experience program." Ron watched the pile of papers arc through the air before they fluttered back down to the floor. Bartlet's rage had not dissipated with their peaceful scattering and he turned to Ron and released more of his anger on him. Ron waited patiently before speaking again. "We know for sure that the coffee didn't come from the White House. We know Sam's probable route to work and have been able to match it to two of the other victims. I've got two agents at the hospital and they're talking to Julia Swan who seems to be the least affected by the strychnine. Hopefully she'll be able to tell us exactly where she bought hers from." "And..." Bartlet prompted. "And the police have already confiscated every street vendor's stall within a mile of the White House and are talking to the vendors." Bartlet nodded. "No notes, warnings, coded messages?" "Nothing and I'm not sure if it's a coincidence that some of the victims work at the White House or if it was a targeted attack." "I don't care what it was. Someone has killed three White House staff and three more lives hang in the balance. They picked the wrong house to mess-" "Mr President," Charlie interrupted, "These are the contact details for the four victims." "Four?" "As of five minutes ago." Charlie saw the look of fear that flitted across the President's face and quickly added, "It's not Sam. It was a lawyer from the Hill. He died in his office. They didn't even have time to call an ambulance." The quiet that fell over the Oval Office at Charlie’s words was mirrored by a similar silence in the room where Toby and Josh sat next to Sam's bed. Only visits from the anaesthetist, doctors and nurses, had disturbed their vigil. The steady puff of the ventilator was almost soothing and more than once Toby had found himself nodding off in the warm ICU. A voice jolted awake. “Sam, Sam, wake up now, open your eyes, Sam.” Sam could hear the voice, could hear his name being called but he was in no great hurry to open his eyes and come away from the warm, dark comfort he found himself in. He couldn’t remember what had gone before but he knew that he liked where he was now and so he ignored the voice and stayed there. “Come on, Sam.” He found it harder to ignore the second voice. He recognised it and knew that ignoring it wasn’t usually a good idea but hoped whoever it was would forgive him. “Sam, please wake up.” This voice was even harder to ignore, it sounded scared and Sam didn’t want anyone to be scared. He was okay, he just didn’t want to come back yet. The decision was taken out of his hands as gentle fingers lifted his eyelids and shone a not so gentle light into his eyes. “Sam, it’s time to wake up. It’s okay and I know you’re tired but I’d really like you to wake up now.” Whiteness and shapes, that’s all Sam could see. The walls, ceiling and the light itself seemed to consist of a brilliant white and within that whiteness were three dark shapes. One of the shapes moved further away and another one took its place. “Sam, it’s Josh. Toby’s here and CJ’s outside. We really need you to wake up here, buddy.” Reluctantly, Sam opened his eyes and tried to focus on the shape beside him. It wavered slightly, blurred in and out of focus but finally it stilled and became a form that Sam recognised. He tried to say hello, to tell Josh that he was okay but no words came and as Sam wakened further he became aware of something in his mouth and throat. His eyes widened and Dr Keel stepped forward again. “There’s a tube in your throat to help you breathe, Sam. Try to relax and just let it work. We’ll take it out in a little while.” Sam didn’t want to relax. He’d had enough. They’d woken him up and dragged him into another nightmare. He hit the bedrail weakly with his fist but his intent was clear. “They’ll take it out in a while you just have to wait a little longer.” Toby placed his hand on the pillow beside Sam’s head and tried to get Sam to look at him but Sam turned away. “Sam!” It was Josh now and he knelt down beside the bed and into Sam’s line of vision. “I know it feels like you’re choking but just relax and try not to think about breathing and it will be okay.” Sam raised his eyes sceptically at Josh but tried to do as he said. Josh nodded reassuringly. “Don’t fight it, Sam.” He pulled Sam’s fingers away from the rail that they were clasped around and gently took hold of his hand. “CJ’s outside. Feel up to a visit?” Sam nodded and Josh looked up to the doctor for permission. “If you two go, she can come in for a moment then that will be it for a while, he needs to rest.” CJ was sitting opposite the door staring into space her arms wrapped around her waist. It was a rare show of vulnerability, but it was fleeting. “How is he?” “He’s woken up and they’ve got this damn tube in his mouth. He wants to see you. The doctor said it was okay but only for a while.” CJ started towards the room but Josh put his hand on her sleeve and called her back. “He’s frightened, CJ. I don’t think he really knows what’s happening and he’s frightened.” CJ didn’t know if Josh was telling her that to warn her or because he thought she could do something about it so she simply placed her hand over his and rubbed it before leaving him standing in the middle of the hospital corridor, Toby behind him kicking the bottom of an uncooperative vending machine. CJ paused at the door and took a look at Sam before entering. She thought she would be able to conceal her reaction to seeing him but she couldn’t hide the look of concern on her face as she made her way to the bed. She was pretty confident that she had hidden her anxiety though and rewarded herself for that at least. “Hey, Sam, I know you can’t talk but you could always say more with your eyes than anyone I’ve ever met.” She sat beside the bed and took hold of his hand. She looked into his eyes and realised how right she was; they spoke more of Sam’s fear and pain than any words could. “It’s alright, everything’s going to be alright,” she whispered and hoped that the words didn’t sound as lame to Sam as they did to her. “We’ve sedated him.” Dr Keel’s sudden presence made CJ jump. “I’m going to take the tube out in a moment but Sam was very agitated when he woke and so we’ve given him something to calm him down. You can stay, if you like, when we remove the tube.” CJ nodded but her gaze remained fixed on Sam. “If you think it’ll help.” “I think a friend by your side is always a help, isn’t it?” At those words CJ looked up. Dr Keel was smiling warmly at her and she returned the smile before turning back to Sam. “Okay.” Dr Keel’s demeanour changed as he focused on Sam and told him what he was about to do. A nurse moved beside Sam and detached the tube from the machine. CJ watched as they prepared him. Sam listened to the doctor but kept his eyes locked on CJ. “Another big breath out, Sam, please.” As Sam obeyed the doctor’s instruction, the nurse pulled the tube out of his throat. She quickly moved to support him as he gagged and choked. CJ found herself watching Dr Keel as he spoke soothingly to Sam and tried to get a response from him. “You’re doing great. Just keep breathing nice and slow.” When Sam was breathing normally again he leaned over him. “Can you tell me where you are?” CJ bit her lip while she waited for his reply. Toby had told her about the risk of brain damage from the convulsions and how confused Sam had seemed before the anaesthetic. “Hospital…in hospital.” “Are you in pain?” “Yes.” “Okay, where?” “CJ,” Sam smiled as if seeing her for the first time. “Where is your pain, Sam?” the doctor repeated. “Where is it?” Sam asked CJ, forming a frown. “He’s just disorientated from the anaesthetic the doctor assured CJ. “Where do you hurt, Sam?” “Head, stomach, chest,” Sam listed as the doctor nodded and began to tell the nurse what to give him. “Legs,” Sam added and he nodded again. “Throat, arms-” “So, it’s safe to say you hurt all over?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, all over…all hurts.” “Well, we’ve got drugs for that too.” “Glad…hear it,” Sam replied. He closed his eyes and CJ bent over and kissed his forehead before following the doctor out of the room. Josh and Toby spun around from their ongoing war with the vending machine when they saw CJ and Dr Keel. “How is he?” Toby asked. “He seems to have woken up okay and he seems more lucid than he did before, but it’s early days. We’ll have to monitor his breathing and just hope that we’ve managed to stop the convulsions.” “Is he stable?” Josh asked. Dr Keel sighed but the sigh became a gentle laugh. “Mr Lyman, I think you took what I said about getting Sam stabilised within a certain time frame a little too literally. It’s just a rough indication that patients who are stabilised within seven to twelve hours go on to survive. So for your sake I suggest you stop thinking that if Sam’s condition isn’t stable by seven o’clock tonight he isn’t going to survive.” CJ, Toby and Josh nodded in unison at the doctor’s words. Josh waited until he was out of sight before asking Toby what the time was and then muttering about ‘taking things literally’.


	4. Against the Dying of the Light 4

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Four Tony Caisey ran his finger along the groove in the table and glanced again at the clock. He didn’t know why he was here and his initial panic at being bundled off the street and into a car had turned to bewildered anxiety as he tried to work out exactly what he had done to warrant his incarceration. Maybe he had seen something? Tony thought back to the morning’s events and tried to remember anything that had seemed out of the ordinary but there was nothing. It had been a morning like any other. He had got up at five am, fed his cat, left his wife’s tea on the bedside table and made his way to work. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened there either. He’d seen the same familiar faces and the same number of unfamiliar ones. Tony thought hard but he could not for the life of him imagine why selling coffee to DC workers would result in him being urgently, but he had to admit, politely, bundled into a car and escorted to the White House. He worked out that he had been sitting here for an hour and smiled despite the situation when he realised that he could tell his wife that watching all those lame old cop shows had paid off because he was going to ask for a lawyer or tell them that they couldn’t hold him any longer without charging him with something like that. They probably could though, Tony thought grimly as he returned to running his finger along the line in the wooden desk. The sound of voices outside the door halted Tony’s action and he turned towards it hoping for a simple explanation or at the very least, a cup of coffee. The man who entered was clearly having as bad a day as Tony was. He apologised for keeping him waiting before sitting down on the other side of the desk. “Mr…” Ron sifted through his notes, “Caisey.” “Tony, and look, I really need to contact my wife. I’m normally home by now and she’ll be worried.” “We’ve already done that and again I’m sorry to have kept you waiting like this.” Ron looked through his notes again and then placed the pad down on the desk. “Mr Caisey, I’ll get straight to the point. This morning a number of people were taken ill both here, on the Hill and at other workplaces. Four have died and seven more are in hospital. Since then, similar incidents have been reported in Chicago, Philadelphia and New York. The victims were poisoned with strychnine. I don’t know about the others, but we think that all of the victims in DC were exposed to strychnine in coffee which they bought on their way to work.” Ron’s words were met with silence. Tony’s face had paled but apart from that he showed little reaction to what he had been told. Eventually he cleared his throat and whispered, “But I’ve never been to Philadelphia.” Ron shook his head “When we brought you in we believed we were dealing with an isolated incident but now we know that whether the strychnine being added was accidental or intentional, it must have been added before it left the factory or during transit.” Tony didn’t seem to have gained any colour so Ron added, “You’re not a suspect, Tony. We need your help.” “Of course, of course.” Tony nodded eagerly, the faces of his regular customers already swimming in front of him. “I need you to think about the coffee you were serving this morning and where you bought it from. Was it the usual brand you sell? Was there anything odd about the packaging? Did you notice anything unusual around your stall this morning or recent mornings? Have you had any strange enquiries about the coffee you sell recently or has anyone offered to supply you with coffee?” Tony wiped a hand over his face and closed his eyes. “Four people! I can’t believe it. I didn’t know, you have to believe I didn’t know.” “Tony, please, I know this is a difficult but I really need you to focus on the questions I’ve asked and help us to find whoever is responsible.” Ron waited until Tony seemed more collected. “I’m going to send another two agents to talk to you. Just think about this morning and the past few days and tell them anything that seemed odd to you no matter how trivial you think it is.” “I’ve been selling coffee here for seven years. Some of my customers have been buying it from me for that long. Are you allowed to say who-” “We’re not releasing the names of those who have died until the families have been informed.” “Yeah, of course, sorry, it’s just that I’ve got to know a number of people over the years and I’d hate to, well, you know, I just…” “Tony, if you help the agents, tell them everything you can, you’ll be doing more than enough to help and maybe helping to stop it happening again.” Ron left the room and left Tony to try to pull himself together before the agents arrived to interview him. While he waited, Tony tried to remember who had bought coffee from him that morning and he shivered as he realised that four of them were now dead. He leant back in the chair and closed his eyes but the faces of possible victims wouldn’t leave him. “Black, no wait, white. No, actually I think I’ll have black.” “Is that it, Sam? Can I pour now or do you want to carry on?” “Sam tucked his newspaper under his arm and reached for his wallet. “Coffee, which makes the politician wise, and see through all things with his half-shut eyes. Alexander Pope The Rape of the Lock.” “You owe me $1.75 and $1.90 from yesterday. Tony Caisey The Death of a Coffee Salesman.” “See, this is why I keep coming here, Tony, where else would I get coffee and a witticism like that every morning?” Sam lifted the lid and blew gently into the cup. “Beats me, Sam. So, what’s going on in the big house today then?” Tony smiled and leant on the corner of his stand. “Well, Tony, I’ve gotta tell ya,” Sam paused to take a welcome sip from the steaming cup, “there’s things going on inside that building today that would make your coffee curdle.” Sam nodded towards the White House and gestured at Tony to come closer. “Remember that secret missile test I was telling you about?” “Sure I remember. They’re testing today?” At Sam’s nod, Tony shook his head. “So chicken feed and liquorice root really can fuel a rocket.” “NASA is over the moon,” Sam placed the money he owed Tony on the counter, “so to speak.” Tony smiled and handed Sam a bagel. “It’s on the house,” he explained. “Have a good day, Sam.” Sam held the bagel up and smiled before turning and setting off for work. Toby looked up briefly as the door to the ICU swung open then went back to his study of the notes Ginger had sent over. CJ and Josh had both gone back to the White House and Toby had remained outside the ICU ever since. He had completed a couple of statements and faxed them over to CJ but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. He had been told that Sam needed to rest and when he had gone back the doctors were with him and the curtains pulled around the bed so Toby had returned to the row of plastic chairs outside. He glanced at his watch and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. From where he sat he had a view down the corridor and at the end of it he could see Dr Keel getting out of the elevator. As he slowly walked towards him, Toby started to put his papers back into a folder. Dr Keel nodded at Toby as he neared him but a sudden beeping noise made him stop and rummage in his pocket. He glanced at his pager and then started once more for the ICU, this time at a faster pace. “Wait here,” he told Toby as he swept past him. Toby waited, not because he had been asked to but because for a few moments he was unable to move. He knew it was Sam that that he had been paged for, he couldn’t explain how he knew but he did and the knowledge kept him rooted to the spot until he could summon the courage to follow Dr Keel into the unit. It wasn’t so much the words but the tone that made Toby’s stomach turn. Toby knew Sam was scared, he had seen it in his office and whilst sitting by his bedside but it was something he couldn’t get used to and he closed his eyes to the sight of Sam crying out and being held by two orderlies and a nurse. “Toby, stop them!” For the second time in as many minutes, Toby forced his uncooperative legs to move. “What’s wrong?” he asked Sam and then looked up at the doctor and repeated the question. “He’s hallucinating, the lack of oxygen. Sam, stop it, it’s okay.” He reached out and tried to place the oxygen mask back over Sam’s face. “How long?” he asked looking up at the nurse. “Four minutes, BP started dropping, blood oxygen level dropping too.” She moved to place the mask back over Sam’s face but he pushed her hand away. “Stop…they’re…stop them, Toby, they’re taking it…” Sam was looking at the doctor as he spoke and Toby didn’t think that he even knew he was there but he answered as if Sam was sitting in his office. “What are they taking, Sam?” “My air…taking my air…can’t breathe.” Before Toby could reply, Dr Keel answered for him. “No one’s taking your air, Sam. We’re trying to give you more air to help you breathe more easily. You need to calm down now.” The doctor’s calm, authoritative voice did little to pacify Sam though and he flung his arm out uselessly in an attempt to stop his attackers. Toby couldn’t get to Sam. There were too many people around the bed and all he could do was stand at the end of it and watch helplessly as Sam struggled with a strength that surprised him. “Dad…tell them…stop…please stop…can’t…” Toby gripped the bedrail as the pillows were pulled from under Sam’s head. Sam’s strength had finally deserted him and his verbal protests were waning too. “Nice and easy, Sam, that’s it.” Doctor Keel monitored Sam’s reaction to the sedative he had administered and waited. “Page him again, tell him he’s not needed,” he told the nurse and Toby realised he had missed most of the frantic conversation that had taken place over Sam’s bed. “Keep it to the mask for now. I don’t want to intubate him again unless it’s absolutely necessary.” The nurse nodded and set about untangling the wires and tubes that lay coiled around Sam. Doctor Keel placed a hand on Toby’s shoulder and nodded towards the door. “Sure, yeah, just ah, just let me unpeel my hands from the bedrail,” Toby said. Keel smiled in sympathy. Sam’s behaviour had unnerved him so he could only imagine what it had done to someone who wasn’t used to seeing such things. “I know it’s hard to see someone like that. He’s sedated now and more importantly his breathing has improved.” Doctor Keel sat down on the chair outside that Toby had vacated earlier and gestured for Toby to sit down too. “He’s not improving as rapidly as I’d hoped. We’re doing everything we can.” Keel prided himself on his ability to gauge the reaction of people to news about their loved one’s condition. He was as certain that he could be candid with Toby as he was that telling Josh the same thing would result in an apoplectic fit. “If he makes it through the night he stands a good chance.” “Thank you, I appreciate you being straight with me.” Toby went back to Sam’s room, determined to stay the night and do all he could to make sure Sam did the same. Leo had spent thirty minutes with Ron, ten with CJ, fifteen with the FBI and twenty with the President. He had finally managed to find a few spare moments and was planning on going to find Josh when Bartlet walked into his office and sat down by his desk. “Any word?” “Same as last time, Toby phoned a little while ago and said they had him sedated again and that he hadn’t had any more convulsions, so that’s something.” “And Ron isn’t any further with finding out who did this?” “No.” Leo took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus, Jed, you should have seen him. I was only there when they loaded him into the ambulance but that was enough. Josh’s face was...and Toby’s…” Leo shook his head giving up on his attempt to explain what it had been like. Bartlet nodded nonetheless. “How’s Josh?” Leo pulled a face and again rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “He’s asleep on Toby’s sofa. I was just going to go see him.” At the words ‘go see him’ Bartlet sat forward and opened his mouth to speak. Years of friendship had given Leo an uncanny ability to follow his friend’s thought processes and he spoke up before Bartlet could talk. “You’re not going to see Sam. There is no way Ron will agree to it and no way in hell I will countenance it.” “There’s a side to you that comes to the fore at times like this, Leo, and it’s not a very pretty side.” “You’re not going. I doubt very much if Ron will let you leave this building until he’s a hundred percent sure of what’s going on anyway,” Leo said as he returned to his desk. “You know, the hospital that Sam is in is called the George Washington. They name hospitals after Presidents. They do that because we’re pretty important people. Wait a few years and you’ll be able to go to the Jed Bartlet library because they do that as well. While you’re there I suggest you take a moment to browse the section with books about loyalty and friendship.” “Well, okay, I’ll do that, sir and I’ll keep my eye out for you in the stupid section.” Jed allowed a small smile at that and the banter that had allowed both men to lift themselves above the situation and feel in control of it. “Okay, okay, I’ll wait.” He turned to go back to his office but paused in the doorway. “Get Josh in here would you?” On waking, it took Josh a few seconds to remember why he was lying on Toby’s sofa and when he did he sat upright and shook his head at the dizziness that followed. His first logical thought was that he should phone Toby and he groped for his cell phone. Its ringing startled him and on hearing Toby’s voice, Josh was still too muddled by sleep to work out how Toby was speaking when he hadn’t even dialled the number yet. “Toby, how did you, is that you?” Toby listened to the sound of Josh’s voice and confused words and frowned. “Were you asleep?” Josh sat up straighter and took a deep breath. “Yeah,” Josh ran his hand over his face and shook his head again. “Sorry, I’m with it now. How is he?” There was a pause and any remnants of sleep that remained were dispelled by Toby’s pause “Toby?” Josh laughed nervously. “You need to come to the hospital. Sam’s bad, Josh. Doctor Keel said if he makes it through the night he’s got a good chance but he’s got worse since then and they don’t think-” “I’m on my way,” Josh said and hung up the phone. He arrived at the hospital a little while later. Donna had driven and CJ had sat in the back but Josh could remember none of the journey or what had transpired at the White House before it. It was only when he arrived at the ICU and saw Toby’s expression that Josh accepted what was happening.


	5. Against the Dying of the Light 5

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Five CJ tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued watching the door of the ICU waiting for Josh or Toby to come out and say it had been a mistake, that it was a different Sam who was probably going to die tonight, not their Sam. The doors did open but it was nurses, doctors and anxious relatives that walked through them. CJ glanced at her watch and wondered how long Donna would be parking the car. She needed someone to talk to, someone to sit with until it was her turn to sit with Sam. Josh had gone straight to Toby on their arrival but CJ had held back. She wanted to talk to the doctor first, to hear it for herself. “CJ? It’s CJ Cregg isn’t it?” CJ looked up to see Dr Keel standing in front of her. She remembered him, his kind words and even kinder eyes. “Yes, and you’re Dr…” “Keel. Are you waiting to see Sam? I checked on him before I left a little while ago he was doing-” “He’s not doing well at all, that was what they told Toby, he’s not doing well and they said we should come in.” Dr Keel shook his head, “I didn’t know. I spoke to Toby before I went off but I didn’t know his condition had worsened. Look, I’ll go and find out what I can for you.” “Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” CJ looked up at the man and for the second time that day was struck by his eyes. It was no time to be thinking of men’s eyes though, not when the man with the most beautiful eyes she’d seen lay in a hospital bed fighting for every breath. “I parked in the 24 hours park was that right? I mean I could go move it but there was a queue in the other one and I thought, better get too much parking than not enough because I’ve done that, gone shopping and then forgotten the time and only paid for-” CJ squeezed Donna’s hand and she stopped talking and let herself be pulled down next to CJ. They waited in silence and neither let go of the other’s hand. Dr Keel came out and told CJ much the same as Josh was being told inside. Sam’s breathing had worsened again and his blood pressure had dropped. It was what they didn’t say though that worried Josh. They didn’t say that Sam was holding his own or that he was doing as well as could be expected or any of the phrases that Josh so desperately wanted to hear. After listening to the doctor, Josh went outside. Donna stood up as he approached. “Sit down, Josh,” she urged, taking in the pallor of his face. “I feel like I’ve been sitting down all day, I’ve come out here to walk around.” Josh did just that and CJ and Donna watched as he paced around the small confines of the corridor. “Are you going back in?” Josh spun around at the sound of CJ’s voice. “I’m sorry?” “I asked if you were going back in. If you’re not I could sit with Sam for a while.” Josh nodded and CJ didn’t know if he was agreeing to her going in or not but he had turned away and continued to pace and so she got up. Donna was growing dizzy watching Josh circle the shiny floor and so she sat down and suggested he do the same. Josh didn’t reply or make any move towards her and so she stood again. She placed her hand on his arm and spoke quietly, “Josh, please sit down, if you keep pacing you’ll be-” “Don’t!” Josh flinched as he felt her hand on him and shrugged it off. The word was not a command or a warning, it was a plea. Donna backed off. She knew that Josh was holding it together but only just and any show of affection or concern from her would be all it took to make him fall apart. She put her hands behind her back and looked down for a few moments giving Josh time to collect himself. “What do you need me to do?” “Find out where we’re at with Sam’s parents. Cancel my meeting with Shipley and tell Ginger to reschedule Toby’s meeting with Bourne and Harris. Go to Sam’s place and pack some stuff. I don’t know, what did you do for me when I was-” “I walked around your apartment in a daze and shoved anything I thought you might want in a bag.” “Yeah, that sort of thing,” Josh agreed and Donna was surprised at how relieved seeing a small smile on his face made her feel. Josh was smiling. Sam wouldn’t die if Josh was smiling. She believed that almost as much as Josh believed that packing a bag for Sam meant the same thing. Donna reached out again and this time Josh didn’t shrug off the hand that reached for his or the gentle kiss that brushed his cheek. The television set sent light flickering across the filthy apartment floor. A cold hand reached for a bottle of beer that rested precariously on the arm of a sofa. “Fuck! Fuck yeah!” The television showed images of coffee stalls and shops from various cities then switched to a reporter who stood outside the White House. A still of Sam filled the screen followed by footage of him and the President. The man who watched had no idea who Sam Seaborn was but he issued another round of expletives as he realised the extent of the damage he had wreaked that day. CJ stood at the end of Sam’s bed. A nurse nodded encouragingly at her but she remained where she was. She had known Sam would look worse than he had before but she was still taken aback at the sight that greeted her. Toby was hunched over in his chair, one hand on his forehead, the other gently holding Sam’s hand. CJ couldn’t see Toby’s face but she could tell that he was staring at the floor. Sam’s eyes were closed and didn’t open as CJ neared the bed. Toby remained still too and only looked up when she came and stood by it. He straightened and rubbed at his eyes. “Donna’s with Josh,” CJ explained as she quietly pulled a chair up to the bed. Toby nodded but his attention was now on Sam who had opened his eyes at the new voice. His eyelids fluttered and stayed half open revealing eyes which sought out Toby before crossing to the other side of the bed. “CJ!” The name was uttered slowly and it seemed to take Sam almost as much energy to say it as the smile that followed. CJ, a woman who spent every day choosing words to conceal, distract, elaborate and manipulate was suddenly unable to think of a single one to say. She reached through the metal railing and grasped Sam’s hand instead. “Sorry,” Sam mumbled but Toby told him to stop it and it was obviously a sentiment he had expressed before. Between Sam’s strained breaths, CJ could hear the hiss of oxygen working its way along the tube. Her hold on Sam’s hand tightened and she forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Sam looked at her before turning his gaze back to Toby. “You’re alright, Sam, just take it easy.” Sam’s eyes closed and he nodded slowly. He felt disjointed, like the top of his body was trying to float away but the hold his friends had on him was keeping him anchored to the bed. “Don’t…don’t let go.” “We won’t if you won’t,” Toby replied and Sam’s eyelids opened again but this time he was unable to find the strength to turn his head towards him and an almost imperceptible nod was his only reply. Two hours passed, punctuated by the nurses’ frequent monitoring of Sam’s condition and accompanied throughout by the low hiss of oxygen and Sam’s laboured breaths. Josh and CJ swapped places twice but Toby remained where he was, never offering to leave so they could both stay and never asked to do so. Donna returned and waited outside to tell Josh that nobody had been able to contact Sam’s parents. CJ and Josh waited outside while she went to Sam. She stroked his hair away from his forehead and then kissed it whispering something softly that Toby couldn’t hear. CJ stayed outside with Donna, wordlessly allowing Josh to return to Sam. He waited for the nurse to finish recording her notes before taking his seat by the bed. “Doctor Keel has been,” Toby told him without taking his eyes off Sam. “What did he say?” Josh placed his hand back over Sam’s. “Nothing, just said he was holding his own.” “That’s good,” Josh looked up at Sam. “It means he’s fighting.” Sam could feel the hands holding him again and his friends’ voices that seemed to float just above him. He opened his eyes and could see their shapes beside his bed. He wanted to thank them for staying with him. He didn’t know what time it was but it was darker than before and quieter so it was late and they were still here. He was afraid if they let go of his hands he’d float away, up to the ceiling, and no one would know where to find him. He wondered if he would be able to breathe if he floated up there. He wondered if the pain would go away. “Shush, we’re right here,” Toby told him in answer to his mumbled words of thanks and requests for them to stay. “Good…stay…hold on…don’t let go.” “Shush,” Toby repeated and Josh tightened his hold on Sam’s hand and hoped Sam could feel it. CJ entered and stood at the end of the bed. The nurses saw her but didn’t say anything and so she pulled a chair up next to Josh and sat down. She snaked her slender hand through the rail and placed it on Sam’s arm. There was a rustle of material and a long sigh, another rustle, a longer sigh and then a rush of cool air as the comforter was raised. “What’s wrong?” Abbey asked from beneath the covers. “Sorry. Go back to sleep.” The bed dipped as Bartlet sat on the edge of it and Abbey rubbed at her eyes and sat up. “He’s in good hands, Jed. Doctor Keel is one of the best doctors I know.” “Yeah,” Bartlet answered but he stayed perched on the end of the bed. “I think I’m going to go down and do some work. I can’t just lay here, Abbey, I need to be doing something. I think I’ll go down for a while.” Abbey wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “Do you want me to come with you?” Bartlet smiled and turned his head. “How did I end up with a woman like you?” “You got lucky.” “I did,” he agreed and kissed her gently before rising from the bed. When he got to his office he picked up some files and sipped on the tea that had been made as soon as word had come from the Residence that he was coming down to the Oval. He couldn’t concentrate though, couldn’t escape the fear that the morning would bring news that he dreaded. He rose from his desk and wandered aimlessly through the corridors. The agents keeping a discreet distance as he entered the Communications Bullpen and walked towards Sam’s office. “It’s still locked, Mr President,” an agent informed him and Bartlet nodded slowly and headed back to the Oval. Two nights ago Toby had been reading a book of quotations. He had been reading a chapter called Famous Last Words, the supposed witticisms of poets, politicians and kings on their deathbeds. He couldn’t rid his mind of them: if this is dying, I don’t think much of it; either that wallpaper goes, or I do; turn up the lights, I don’t want to go home in the dark; too late for fruit, too soon for flowers. Toby closed his eyes, scrunching them up as if he could force his mind to rid itself of the swirling words. He didn’t believe any of them, not now, not sitting here wondering if Sam would live to see the morning. People didn’t make grand statements or throw out witty comments to be recorded for prosperity on their deathbeds; they just lay there and either won or lost the battle that their body was waging against whatever illness or injury it was fighting. Sam wasn’t saying anything, not anything that would be worth recording. He was frightened. He looked frightened and when he spoke he sounded frightened. “Can’t breathe,” Sam mumbled and Toby listened as Josh assured him that he could and that the oxygen was working and helping him. Sam had said this a number of times through the night and reassurances from one of them had been enough to quieten him but this time it was different. He tried to sit up. “Can’t breathe,” he repeated. The nurse had just completed her checks but she returned now at Sam’s movement and the raised voices. “Toby?” Sam said and the fear that had shrouded the bed all night seemed to resonate within the word. “I’m here,” Toby said, “We’re all here, you’re not alone.” He didn’t tell Sam it was going to be alright because he didn’t think for one moment that it was but it suddenly seemed vital that Sam knew he wasn’t alone. Toby heard Josh call his name with the same questioning fear and wondered why everyone thought he could do something. A white coat came into his vision and a hand pushed him gently away from the bed. Sam moaned. Josh stood up. Sam called out. CJ stumbled slightly as she moved away from the bed. Josh told Sam he was there. The pillows were pulled away and thrown onto the floor. Sam was told to breath. The Doctor cursed. A beeping filled the room. The oxygen mask was pulled away and swung backwards and forwards by the side of the bed. Rapid commands were shouted. Sam was told to breathe, and then the doctor cursed again.


	6. Against the Dying of the Light 6

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Six Donna had meant to go home after CJ had gone into the ICU and not come out again. She had meant to leave the bag she had packed for Sam with a message for Josh. She had meant to do all this without going into the ICU to see Sam, having to see someone else she loved fighting for life in front of her. She had stood up a number of times and walked towards the nurses’ station but each time she had returned to her seat and sat worrying the handle of the bag. She had just decided to leave the bag with the nurses when the doors to the unit was flung open and Josh burst through them and hurried away down the corridor. She turned her confused gaze from his retreating form to the door again as Toby came through it in a similarly urgent manner. She stood and the cup she had been holding rolled along the floor and into CJ’s path. She kicked it along the floor without even noticing it and Donna watched as she paced up and down, one hand on her hip the other on her forehead. Toby was standing with his back to Donna, one hand on the wall. ‘Don’t turn around’ Donna thought, ‘Don’t turn around and tell me he’s dead’. CJ stopped pacing, and as if only noticing Donna’s presence she walked quickly towards her and took her hands which Donna had held out automatically. They walked together to the chairs. “God, is he-” Donna didn’t need to finish her sentence as CJ’s frantic shaking of her head let her know that her worst fears had not been realised. “He stopped breathing and they had to put a tube in. They couldn’t get him to breathe.” CJ looked at Toby as she spoke and Donna followed her gaze and watched as he slowly straightened, took a deep breath and turned to face them. “Donna, will you go and find Josh for me, please. I think he went,” Toby paused and circled his finger by his temple, “that-a-way.” Donna stood up immediately, pleased to have something to do and clearly understanding from Toby’s gesture that he was as concerned about Josh as she was. Her exit was followed by Dr Keel’s entrance. CJ and Toby followed him to an empty waiting room further down the corridor. “He’s stable. I’ve had to intubate him. He’s conscious but heavily sedated. I won’t lie to you, he’s in a critical condition. He’s fighting and that’s going to count for a lot.” “He’ll fight,” Toby announced as he stood up and there was no arguing with the conviction behind his words. “Well if his strength is mirrored by the strength of support for him here then I have no doubt that he will.” Toby nodded at the doctor, grateful for his words. He waited for him to leave and then went and sat by CJ. She reached for his hand without looking up. “You should go find Josh,” she told him. “Donna’s with him.” He sat back in the chair. A window was open and Toby welcomed the refreshing air that came through it, just as he welcomed the hold on his hand and the quiet of the room and he was content to sit a while. “Josh!” Donna had called three times and he still wouldn’t slow down or turn around. He had crossed the parking lot and was now on a stretch of grass and so Donna removed the high heels that had been slowing her down and jogged across the dew covered green towards him. “Josh!” she called breathlessly as she finally caught up. “Jesus, Donna, take a hint! The running ahead and not answering was pretty much my way of saying leave me alone!” Donna reached out and pulled at his elbow in an attempt to get him to face her. “Will you leave me the fuck alone?” The shoes dropped from her hands and she took a step back. It wasn’t the volume, the tone, or the force of his words that made her retreat but the tears that were clearly visible on his face. He scrubbed furiously at his eyes as if surprised at the moisture he found there and then turned away from her once more. “Josh, listen to me, you need-” “Don’t tell me what I need! I need for my best friend not to be dying. I need to not see him struggling to breathe and I need for you to leave me the fuck alone!” Donna took another step away. “I’m going to sit by the path over there and wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to get yourself together and we’ll go back inside or I’ll take you home or back to the office. I’ll take you wherever you want to go but I’m not leaving you.” Donna turned to walk towards the bench but stopped and returned to Josh. “And that’s despite the fact that you just shouted the F word at me twice!” Josh wiped his eyes on his sleeve and then crossed his arms over his chest. The cool, night breeze played with his hair. He took a few deep breaths before wiping his eyes again. He didn’t want to go back in and face whatever he had to face like this. He wanted to be ready or at least appear to be ready and when he’d calmed down he knew Donna would be waiting. Someone or maybe a force was pulling at him, forcing him to move, to rise, to float upwards towards the ceiling. He tried to fight it but it was becoming increasingly hard. He didn’t want to float. He wanted to stay where he was but he could no longer feel the hands that had been holding his so firmly, keeping him where he was, keeping him safe. He could barely open his eyes but could see the brightness of the room. What he could no longer see were the shapes by his bed, comforting, dark shapes that let him know he was not alone. If Sam had opened his eyes wider Toby would have seen the panic in them. He was looking at Sam, trying to rekindle the connection that had been present before. He still held Sam’s hand but there was no response. No sudden tightening or reaction to the gentle strokes of Toby’s thumb. The nurses had told him to talk to Sam and had proceeded to tell Sam what they were doing as if he was awake and sitting up in bed. Toby waited for the last nurse to leave and then leaned closer to Sam. “I’m still here, Sam, so let’s just get through this night together, okay?” It was an unspoken pact: I’ll stay if you do. Sam could hear a mumbled voice beside him and tried to open his eyes wider and move his hand. Toby felt the slight movement and tightened his grip on Sam’s hand. “There you are! It’s okay. Can you hear me?” The mumbled words were clearer or rather their tone was and Sam tried again to squeeze the hand that he could now feel covering his own. Toby peered into his eyes and saw the fear. He remembered Sam pleading for him not to let go and realised that same fear was gripping Sam now. He readjusted his grip so that his hand completely covered Sam’s and placed his other hand on Sam’s shoulder gripping it just as tightly. “I’ve still got hold of you. I told you I wouldn’t let go.” There was no movement in reply to Toby’s words, no small nod or squeeze of his hand but Toby saw the fear leave Sam’s eyes. Toby nodded and muttered reassuringly more for his benefit than Sam’s. He glanced at the door and hoped CJ and Josh would give him a few minutes to compose himself before they entered. The pump beside Sam’s bed continued to rise and fall in a slow steady rhythm. Sam’s eyes had closed and Toby resisted the selfish urge to nudge him awake, resisted listening to the relentless thought that if he didn’t, then he might not wake at all. CJ crept up to the bed and kissed Sam’s forehead gently. It was four am and she needed to get home and shower before returning to the White House. She told Toby that three more people had died during the night, two in Philadelphia and one in New York. Sunlight was creeping into the room, its red glow softening the light from the strip lighting above. Behind them a shift was ending and soft voices filled the room as notes and updates were handed over. “Josh is outside,” CJ said without taking her eyes off Sam so Toby didn’t know if she was talking to him or Sam. Her next words were quieter and Toby realised the first had been for Sam. “I think it’s safe to say he isn’t handling this well.” “Who is?” CJ nodded and bent to kiss Sam once more. “Donna’s with him. I think he’ll be in soon.” “Good, because I was just thinking what I really need now is Josh on the other side of the bed driving me nuts!” CJ crossed to Toby’s side and kissed him on the forehead as gently as she had Sam. “You’re just a big old teddy bear, spin boy, and don’t forget that I know it.” She stood by Toby’s chair for a while before accepting she couldn’t put off leaving any longer. “Call me if…call me.” “Yeah.” Toby watched her walk out of the unit and didn’t miss the warm smile Dr Keel gave her as they passed in the doorway. “Why don’t I need to phone?” Charlie asked the off-duty agent. He had only just arrived and had been about to phone the Residence to wake the President. In reply the agent nodded towards the Oval Office. Charlie entered and shook his head when he saw the President slumped in his seat at his desk, a pile of papers made a trail from his open hand to the floor and his glasses were perched awkwardly across his face. “Mr President.” Charlie walked nearer to the desk and raised his voice, “Sir, time to wake up.” “I’m up, I’m up,” he mumbled as he opened his eyes and sat upright sending the papers that had clung to his lap and chair fluttering to the floor. “Morning, Mr President.” “Charlie.” Bartlet rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t suppose you can divert my wife’s attention while I sneak back into bed?” Bartlet looked beyond Charlie and at the form that was storming along the portico outside. “Too late.” Charlie followed the President’s gaze to the window and winced in sympathy. “The hospital knows to phone me with any news but I can phone now if you like?” “I phoned an hour ago, but thank you. Send CJ in when she gets here will you?” The doors to the Oval were opened hastily by an agent and Abbey burst into the room. “You slept in a chair, mister! After everything I said, after all the exercises and pills and massages, you slept in a chair!” “Isn’t she magnificent?” Bartlet said to Charlie but a diplomatic shrug and backward step told him that he was on his own. Josh was trying so hard not to ask Toby what the time was, or point out that is was morning which meant the night was over which meant… “What’s the time?” Josh asked. “It’s time you stopped speaking.” “Wow, that time already?” Both men turned their attention to Sam who was beginning to move more frequently and whose eyes now told them that he knew they were there. “Morning, Sam,” Josh said and Sam’s eyes found Josh and then turned slowly towards Toby who greeted him as well. The greeting conveyed the relief that seemed to flow into the room with the morning sun. The night was over and Sam had survived it. “I’ve got to get going, buddy,” Josh stood up and placed his hand on Sam’s head and waited until his eyes sought him out. Like CJ before him, he bent down and kissed Sam’s forehead. Josh stared into Sam’s eyes and whatever message he was silently sending was understood as Sam returned the stare with an almost imperceptible nod of his head. An hour later, Toby was still by the bed. He hadn’t let go of Sam’s hand and had no intention of doing so until Sam didn’t need him to. He thought about his day and what he could cancel and what he could do at the hospital. He wondered how he could phone Ginger without letting go of Sam’s hand and the thought didn’t strike him as bizarre. “Sir, can I ask you to move for a moment? I just need to take a reading.” “Down there?” Toby pointed to a bag that hung by the side of the bed and the nurse nodded. “Okay, I er, you see the thing is, let me just stand up here I need to…” Toby stood and awkwardly turned so that he was out of the nurse’s way. He pushed his chair aside with his toe and turned again so that she could move past him. He did all this without once letting go of Sam’s hand. “Sorry, it’s just that I said I wouldn’t let go and er…” Toby laughed, a short embarrassed noise, and the nurse smiled as if his mumbled explanation and awkward insistence on not letting go of Sam’s hand was nothing out of the ordinary. “There, all done, you can sit back down now. I’ll have a few moments free in a while if you want to go get something to eat while I sit with Sam.” “Thanks but then I’d have to-” “Let go of his hand, yes, I see the problem.” CJ walked slowly towards the Oval Office. She was in no rush to get there. She knew Leo and the President would want to ask her about last night and it was a night she would rather forget. Bartlet was sitting next to Leo listening intently to Ron who sat opposite them. He saw CJ and motioned for her to join them. “Ron doesn’t know anything more but he’s trying to make me feel better.” CJ threw a tired smile at Ron and sat down beside him. Bartlet sat back and sighed, “It’s a hell of a situation, Ron, no suspect, no clear motive, and you don’t even know where the initial crime was committed.” “Yet,” Leo added confidently. Josh entered looking even worse than CJ. He hadn’t been home and the stress of the night showed clearly on his face. He nodded at Ron who stood, thanked the President and left the room. “You stayed with Sam all night?” Leo asked and Josh nodded slowly as he sank back against the sofa. “A few hours ago none of us here thought Sam would last the night but he did, he did, and all we can do is take that for the promising sign that it is that Sam will survive whatever else he’s facing.” Bartlet’s words had the effect he had hoped for. Josh straightened slightly and CJ looked as if she was more able to face the day than she had when she had walked into the room. “Now,” Bartlet stood and clapped his hands. “Let’s talk about my visit to Sam.” “Which is not going to happen, sir,” Leo answered. “You let me visit Josh,” Bartlet argued. “You were in the hospital at the time!” CJ closed her eyes and savoured the warm sun that streamed through the window and the familiar sound of Leo’s and the President’s verbal sparring. The Oval Office was a strange place to find a few moments’ peace and comfort but she took full advantage of it and didn’t open her eyes again until the voices stopped and Josh nudged her elbow telling her it was time to go. “It’s not breathing for him it’s helping him to breathe. He’s actually taking some breaths himself which the machine allows him to do.” Doctor Keel hoped his words were encouraging the exhausted man who sat by Sam’s bed. “I want to take the tube out as soon as possible before Sam starts letting the machine breathe for him.” Toby rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. Too tired to respond he nodded his understanding of what Dr Keel had told him. He listened as Sam was told what was about to happen and what he should do. He watched as the tube was pulled from Sam’s mouth and his eyes opened wider than they had in the past few hours. He squeezed Sam’s hand as his eyes darted from Dr Keel to him and then up to the ceiling. He hadn’t let go.


	7. Against the Dying of the Light 7

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Seven Ginger had spent five minutes searching though the files on Toby’s desk before she found the ones she was looking for. She spent a further five minutes yet again trying to contact Sam’s parents. She put the files into Toby’s laptop case and collected a piece of pie from the Mess. In the bottom of Toby’s cupboard there was a gym bag that he never used but which held a wash bag and clean sweatshirt. She picked that up too and placed the pie carefully inside it. While she did all this, two men were working equally industriously in Sam’s office. His laptop had already been removed and the men were now sifting through the contents of his desk in the hope that they would find something, anything, which might give this apparently motiveless attack a motive. Ginger avoided looking into Sam’s office. Instead, she concentrated on righting Toby’s. The coffee table was still pushed against his desk from when the paramedics had made room to work on Sam. Two pillows from the sofa lay on the floor beside CJ’s jacket and Ginger picked it up and tried to straighten the creases before giving it up as a hopeless task. The glass of water that she brought to Sam lay on the floor and the carpet was still slightly damp around it. Ginger picked it up and shook her head at the realisation that she couldn’t remember dropping it. Carol wasn’t at her desk when Ginger went to return CJ’s jacket so she walked to the door and knocked lightly. CJ was sitting on her sofa, a cup of water in one hand and a pill in the other. She downed the pill and rubbed at her temple before noticing Ginger. “I found this in Toby’s office. It’s a bit creased I’m afraid.” CJ smiled up at her but the smile faded as a memory of rolling the jacket and placing it under Sam’s head came to her. “Just put it on the chair. Thanks, Ginger. Are you going to the hospital?” “Yes, Toby wants some work sent over and I thought I’d take him a change of clothes as well.” CJ nodded. Ginger wanted to tell her to lie down before she fell down but she knew from experience that sort of advice would be ignored. “Is there anything you think I should take from Sam’s office?” “His glasses. He’ll want them when he’s feeling better.” “Okay.” Ginger looked at CJ who was looking for her own glasses amongst a pile of papers on her desk. “You should lie down before you fall down.” CJ stopped rummaging and looked up at Ginger. Her face was drawn but her smile was genuine. “Why?” Toby sighed and moved his chair closer to the bed. Sam had said very little since the breathing tube had been removed apart from asking Toby if he could go home. “You can’t go home because you’re ill, Sam. You need to stay here and let the doctors and nurses help you to get better. Try some more water,” Toby said, reaching for the cup but Sam shook his head. “Want…to…go home.” “I know you do, but you can’t, and neither can I because I’ve got myself embroiled in this hand-holding thing which is remarkable considering I’m not the most tactile of people but here I am holding your hand, not letting go.” Sam turned to Toby. “Here you are…thank you.” “Yes!” Ginger’s cry filled the Communications Bullpen and Donna heard it from her desk. “I’ve found them, I’ve found Sam’s parents,” Ginger said excitedly as she reached Donna’s desk. “His dad was at some golf tournament in California and his mom was staying with a family friend in Seattle. They’re both heading straight here.” “What’s going on?” Josh called out from his room. “Ginger’s found Sam’s parents. They’re on their way.” “Where was his dad?” “Some golf tournament in-” “I’m taking credit. I told Ginger to try the golf courses.” Josh sat up straighter and tapped his pencil against the desk. “I’m the man to ask when you’re looking for other men because I’m a man’s man and I know the places to look.” “You’re telling me you know where to look for men?” “What, wait, that’s not...” “Oh, Josh, it’s just too easy.” Donna crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “So, do you want to take credit for Ginger finding Sam’s mom as well?” Josh pretended to shudder. “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to take credit for that.” Donna raised her eyebrows but Josh just shrugged. “You’ll see,” he said cryptically and returned to the files on his desk. Doctor Keel was pleased. He was pleased Sam hadn’t died last night; he was pleased Sam was breathing without support; and he was pleased that Sam’s temperature, although high, wasn’t getting any higher. Sam hadn’t offered much in the way of lucid comments but he had responded to a few questions and certainly seemed to be aware of Toby’s presence. “I’m pleased,” he told Toby as he looked at Sam’s chart. “I know Dr Nashton will be too. Considering the night he’s had, I think Sam’s doing remarkably well. I’m going to increase his pain meds which might make him a little more confused. The main thing is that the convulsions have stopped, that was my primary concern.” “For good, do you think?” “I don’t know of any cases of convulsions returning this length of time after the initial attacks. Having said that, there aren’t that many cases of people surviving after being unstable for the period Sam was. We’re not out of the woods but I feel a lot happier about Sam’s chances than I did twelve hours ago.” “Well yes, twelve hours ago you thought he would be dead by now.” A small movement from the bed made both men look at Sam. He looked up at the doctor who was standing where Toby had been sitting all night. His head turned to the other side of the bed and he seemed to relax slightly on seeing Toby there. “What’s time?” Toby knew to the minute what the time was as he had been watching the clock for the past six hours. “It’s half past nine.” Sam looked confused at his answer so he added, “In the morning.” Sam pulled his hand out of Toby’s grasp and started to pull the oxygen mask away from his face. “Whoa, don’t do that.” Toby reached forward and placed it back over Sam’s mouth. “How do you feel, Sam?” Keel readjusted the tubes running from the mask as he spoke. Sam looked at him briefly and then turned back to Toby. “Want to go home.” Toby had spent the whole night watching Sam breathe and fearing every breath would be his last, he had watched him nearly lose that fight and had remained strong, but listening to Sam asking to go home again and again was something that he was finding increasingly hard. He was relieved when Dr Keel answered for him. “You can’t go home, Sam, you’re very poorly and you need to stay here until you’re better. I need you to tell me if you’re in any pain.” Toby was used to Sam being polite, even to people who were driving him insane, so when Sam told Keel to, ‘fuck off’ it surprised him more than the Doctor. The fact that Sam started to cry soon afterwards surprised him even more. “Come on,” Toby muttered as he reached for a paper towel from the bedside table. “Don’t get upset, it’s okay.” “I don’t…don’t know...why…why can’t go home.” Toby told him to shush. He didn’t have any more words of comfort. You can’t go home because some maniac tried to kill you and still might succeed. Toby didn’t think that would be very comforting so he said nothing. He dried Sam’s eyes, held his hand and said nothing. Ron took a swig of coffee, it was his third cup he’d tried that morning and he was hoping the taste of it wouldn’t make him retch like the others had. He put the cup down and wondered if he’d ever be able to stomach the taste again. He sighed and looked over the reports that had been sent him from the various cities where other attacks had occurred. He glanced at a picture of the President on the wall. Why couldn’t the President just accept that going to the hospital so soon after a lock-down just wasn’t feasible? He smiled at Charlie’s look of sympathy as he had patiently explained why he was reluctant to allow the trip. The sudden noise of his phone ringing pulled Ron from his thoughts. His smile widened as he listened to the Lieutenant from New York’s 25th precinct. A few moments later he was hurrying towards the Oval Office. Maybe the President’s trip to the hospital wasn’t out of the question after all. “Yes, Sam Seaborn. He was brought in yesterday.” Tony Caisey waited for the nurse to tell him how Sam was. He glanced at the coffee vending machine at the end of the hall with contempt. Tony Casiey had never in his life had a cup of coffee from a vending machine. He prided himself on the quality of the coffee he sold. Since yesterday morning, though, that pride had been greatly dented. He hadn’t been able to open his stall today as half of his stock had been taken away anyway. He was secretly pleased for he didn’t think he could face the countless questions that his usual customers would be asking. He feared their accusatory stares just as much. Tony was innocent, the White House had told him so, the DC police had told him so but still he felt an enormous sense of guilt over what had happened and despite his wife’s best efforts to make him see that was nonsense, the feeling had simply grown as more victims had fallen to the contaminated coffee that he had sold them. “…end of the corridor then turn right.” Tony knew he had missed most of the nurse’s directions but he had heard the word ICU and supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to find. He thanked her and headed for the board he had seen by the doorway giving directions to the different departments. When he arrived he found an agitated man staring and shaking his head. “It’s a wonder anyone gets where they’re going round here at all,” he remarked on seeing Tony looking equally helplessly at the board. Tony smiled. “It’s a bit of a labyrinth, isn’t it.” “There it is!” the handsome man exclaimed. “I’m on the wrong level. You’d think ICU would be right by the main entrance. Well, good day, I hope you find where you’re headed for.” “Thanks, goodbye.” Tony pretended to study the board until he saw the elevator doors close. He’d had a feeling that the man had reminded him of someone but it wasn’t until he said where he was going that he realised who. Tony turned back the way he had come. He would come back and visit later. Sam wouldn’t want him there now. Not when his dad had just arrived.” “Toby…” Sam couldn’t hear his own voice so it didn’t surprise him that Toby couldn’t hear him. He tried again. “Toby.” No reply came. Toby had fallen asleep a few minutes ago and Sam wanted to know, needed to know, why he was here. He had accepted that he wasn’t going home but now he needed to know why he was here in the first place. He could remember opening letters in his office and that was the last thing he could remember before waking here in a sea of pain and fear that he couldn’t escape. “Toby.” He wriggled his fingers inside of Toby’s hand but that drew no response. He started to panic. Toby wouldn’t be able to hold onto him if he was asleep. What if he started to float again? “Toby!” This time he managed to raise his voice loud enough to be heard but it wasn’t Toby who answered. “Toby’s right there, son, and I’m here now. Your old dad’s here. Everything’s alright now.” That was good. It was good that his dad was here. He was a strong man too and he would hold him down. He’d pull him back with one hand if he had to. Sam could remember his dad swinging him around in an arc with one hand. He’d be able to keep hold of him. Michael Seaborn had been warned that Sam was very ill. He had been told to hurry. He thought he had prepared himself for seeing Sam but realised that he could never have been fully prepared for the image of pure helplessness which confronted him now. He watched as recognition flashed across his son’s face. He held out his hand to Toby who had woken at the sound of his voice. “They couldn’t find me. I’d have been here before but they couldn’t find me.” “You’re here now, Mr Seaborn.” Toby had never met Sam’s father but there was no need for an introduction, the likeness was striking. “Michael, and I’m grateful that you’ve been here, Mr Ziegler.” Michael also needed no introduction, he recognised Toby from pictures he had seen in the media and photos in Sam’s apartment but even without those he would have known Toby instantly from Sam’s vivid descriptions of him. “Is Sam’s mother here yet?” There was no mistaking the uneasy tone of Michael’s voice. Toby shook his head and managed not to smile at the relieved look on Michael’s face. Both men jumped as Sam’s previously still form sprung to life. His back jerked away from the bed and the mask was ripped from his face. Before either of them could call for help, two nurses appeared by the bed closely followed by a doctor. “Page Dr Keel,” she ordered as she pulled down the bed rail and lowered the head of the bed. Toby stepped away from the bed and reached across to pull Michael with him but they didn’t leave. Dr Keel rushed into the room and immediately began to talk to Sam whose moans filled the room. “Pancuronium?” the doctor asked. Dr Keel’s hand rested on Sam’s head as he answered and he kept his gaze on Sam “Yes, 0.1 mg intravenously.” “Repeat?” He nodded again and moved slightly so his colleague could administer the drug. “We’re giving you something now, Sam. Just hold on, it will be over soon.” Sam’s eyes tried to find the person who was speaking to him but all he could feel was panic and the pain that ripped through him with each new convulsion. Doctor Keel looked on helplessly. Convulsions caused by Strychnine were unusual in that the victim remained fully aware of what was happening. He hoped that Sam would pass out. With each convulsion, Sam’s lungs ceased to work. Keel saw him struggling for air and held the mask firmly over Sam’s face. “No, no, no…” Sam moaned and tried to force Keel’s hand away. “No, please…God…please.” Toby closed his eyes to the sight before him and wished he could block out the sounds as easily too. “Jesus, will you help him!” Sam’s dad shrugged off Toby’s hand and walked closer to the bed. “We are. We’ve given him something it just takes a few minutes.” Somewhere amidst the terror, Sam heard a voice he recognised. It took him a few moments to place a name to it but when he did he called it out and Sam’s dad moved hurriedly to the side of the bed. “I’m here, son. Here I am.” Michael grabbed Sam’s hand and watched as the drugs slowly took effect. As his body relaxed, Sam fixed his eyes on his dad. Toby thought he looked more aware than he had since he had first fallen ill. He wondered if maybe the fit had somehow made Sam more lucid. He watched as Sam tugged on his father’s sleeve. “Dad…take me home…no one see us…you can do it. They won’t…they won’t...” “The convulsions cause a decrease in oxygen to his brain, and the drugs will make him confused,” Dr Keel explained, seeing the disappointment on Toby’s face and anxiety on Michael’s. “Tell him he can’t go home. He seems to be pretty fixated on it but maybe he’ll listen to you.” Michael leaned closer to Sam. “You are home, Sam. You’re safe, at home, and I’m here too.” Toby wasn’t surprised that he had managed to lie to his wife and son so successfully for so many years as he spoke so earnestly to Sam he almost had Toby believing he was at Sam’s place as well. “Am I?” Sam asked. “Okay…good.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Sam seemed to accept that he was no longer in a strange place. Toby and Michael assumed the knowledge was helping him to relax but Dr Keel knew it was the drugs that were gradually paralysing him in order to stop any more convulsions. “Dad?” “Right here.” “Can you get…can you ask Toby to come? He…he was...he kept…he was holding on and…he didn’t...let me go.” Sam didn’t hear his father’s reply. His eyes closed as his body finally succumbed to the drugs, and his exhaustion.


	8. Against the Dying of the Light 8

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Eight “He wanted to see what would happen?” Bartlet threw his glasses onto the desk and stormed over to Ron. “You’re telling me that the man who chaotically poisoned innocent people in over five States did so because he wanted to see what would happen?” Ron nodded and waited for Bartlet to calm down. After a few moments, he walked over to the sofa, sat down and gestured for Ron to do the same. “He wanted to see what would happen?” Bartlet repeated quietly with an air of disbelief. “He was sitting watching news coverage of the poisonings when they arrested him. Apparently he didn’t resist and confessed immediately. The officers said it was almost as if being arrested was part of the plan, like he wanted to find out what that was like as well. He kept asking questions about what they were doing and why. He was disappointed that they had discovered him so quickly but apart from that he didn’t show any signs of regret.” “This is just…” Bartlet held his hands up. “I don’t know what it is but it’s definitely not what I was expecting to hear. At least there was a reason, wicked and ludicrous though it was, for what happened at Rosslyn. At least there was a tangible foe. This is just…” Bartlet laughed at his inability to make sense of a senseless act. “I don’t know what to say and I’m glad Leo isn’t here to hear that!” “Two agents are on their way there now. We’ll know more when they’ve interviewed him.” “Do we have a name yet?” “Hannity, Joseph Hannity.” Bartlet sighed and rubbed at his neck in an attempt to soothe his muscles that were still protesting from the night spent in an office chair. “Okay, we’ll just have to wait for more information. In the meantime…” Ron couldn’t help but smile at the President’s hopeful face. “In the meantime I’ll start making the necessary arrangements for you to visit Sam, sir.” For the first time since he had entered the room, Ron saw Bartlet smile. “It will be very late at night or in the early hours of the morning.” “Fine, and whatever other power crazed restrictions you want to impose on me you just go straight ahead, Ron. If it means being allowed to…” Bartlet opened Leo’s door and checked that his friend wasn’t in his office, “…visit Sam, I’ll do whatever you want. Although it’s worth remembering that you have the easy job.” “I do, sir?” Ron watched as Bartlet walked over to the other door to make sure Leo wasn’t in the outer office. “You do. You just have to make a route through DC and into GW secure. I have to find a way to sneak out of here without my Chief of Staff or wife realising where I’ve gone.” Bartlet rubbed at his neck once more before shaking Ron’s hand and returning to his desk. Sam hadn’t woken from his drug induced sleep and Toby had taken the opportunity to take a break from his bedside. He bought a bottle of water and went and sat outside to eat the pie that Ginger had brought him. He watched the family and friends of other patients walk past him towards the hospital and when the pie was finished he opened the water, took a long swig from the bottle and let his head fall back against the wooden bench. Sam’s dad had been a revelation. Toby knew very little about the circumstances surrounding Sam’s parents’ divorce but he knew that Michael Seaborn had lived a lie and that discovering that had damaged Sam. He had been surprised at how quickly Sam had been reconciled with his father but while waiting for Sam to come to the bar the night he and Josh had planned to get him drunk, Josh had told Toby that he wasn’t at all surprised and that if Toby ever met Sam’s dad he would understand why. Now Toby had met him and he did understand. In the brief time he had spent with him, Toby had realised that Michael Seaborn was a likeable man. There was something so charming and affable about him that Toby couldn’t help but like him and could see why Sam had found it so easy to forgive him. Toby allowed himself a smile at the memory of the look of relief that had flitted across Michael’s face when told that Diane Seaborn had not yet arrived. Toby closed his eyes and savoured the sunlight that warmed his face and the cool breeze that vied with the warmth. He heard his name called and threw the bottle and pie wrapper in the bin before turning around to see Josh approaching. He wondered if he looked as bad as Josh did and decided he must look worse as at least Josh had managed to grab some sleep during the past twenty-four hours. “Are you heading back in?” Josh asked as he approached Toby. “I’m going back in. Sam’s asleep so I thought I’d get some air.” Toby decided not to tell Josh just yet that Sam was asleep because they had pumped sedatives and paralytics into him to stop him from having another fit. “You ready?” “Yeah.” Toby stood up, ignoring the dull ache in his back. As they walked towards the hospital, Toby told him about Sam’s latest setback and the revelation that it had been meeting his father. Sam couldn’t move and that, he decided, was almost as bad as floating. He could hear his father’s voice and he tried to focus on that instead of panicking that nobody was holding onto him anymore. He could see the ceiling and just make out the shape of a screen around his bed making the surroundings darker than they had been before. The light from above his bed was gone too and Sam was glad that its harsh beam had disappeared. A sudden slash of light by the side of the bed told him that more people had arrived and he listened carefully in order to try to make out who they were. One was Toby. Sam had come to recognise his presence even in the dimness. He recognised the second person’s voice and felt the warm hand as it was gently placed on his head. Sam wanted to talk to Josh and Toby. He had so many questions to ask. He wasn’t sure where he was anymore. His dad had told him he was at home and he supposed he was but he couldn’t lift his head to see any more than the ceiling and indistinct shapes. He tried to lift his hand but that too was hopeless. He closed his eyes and let exhaustion once more pull him away from his friends. With the curtain pulled around the bed, there was very little room. Toby watched as Josh shook hands with and was then pulled into a hug by Sam’s dad. He checked to make sure Sam wasn’t awake and then left the bed and walked into the corridor outside. An agent had been outside the ICU since Sam had been admitted and Toby watched as he talked into his phone, rolled his eyes and then walked over to the nurses’ station. Toby didn’t have to hear what was being said to know that a visit from the President was imminent. One of the nurses whooped with excitement and another started to inspect her stained uniform with dismay. Toby returned to Sam’s bedside and told Josh and Michael of the impending visit. “So, the President’s going to come in here tonight, visit Sam, then disappear as quietly as he arrived?” Toby nodded. “Boy, is Diane going to be pissed about missing him.” Michael’s face lit up at the thought of telling his ex-wife that she had missed meeting the President of the United States. Josh had stayed by Sam’s bedside for an hour. When it became clear that Sam wasn’t going to open his eyes anytime soon, Toby went home for a shower and something to eat. Michael told Josh about the game of golf he had been winning when the call had come through from the White House and both men enjoyed the reprieve the story offered from talking about Sam and when he might open his eyes again. “That was the closest I’ll ever come to beating Bill Mathers.” Michael shook his head and absently placed a hand on Sam’s cheek. “Hear that, Sam? Your old dad nearly beat Bill Mathers.” Sam felt the warmth and nestled into it. He didn’t open his eyes but the movement and signs of awareness were enough to make Josh and Michael look up at each other and share a smile. Their smiles grew at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Bill...here?” “No, he’s not here.” “Good…Bill’s…jack…jackass.” “That he is,” Michael answered simply but his face showed the relief he felt at hearing his son’s words. “It’s the second floor, he’s got it wrong. It’s the second floor and the room is to the west of the elevator.” The agent placed the phone back into his pocket and nodded at Josh through a gap in the screens before rejoining the nurse who was showing him the windows and other entrance to the ICU. “He’ll be here soon then?” Michael asked and Josh nodded. “Sam, can you hear me?” Sam opened his eyes. He was finding it a little easier to move and managed to nod his head in reply. “The President wants to visit you. Is that okay?” It had never occurred to Josh that it wouldn’t be but now that Sam’s father had asked the question he realised that a visit from the President might be the last thing Sam wanted. Sam turned his head away from Michael and towards Josh. “Is it?” “It’s up to you, Sam. You don’t have to see him. Is that what you mean?” A frown formed on Sam’s face and he shook his head in frustration. “No, safe…is it safe?” “Oh! Yes, of course it is.” Josh didn’t know what Sam was thinking, where he thought he was or what he remembered but Josh remembered waking up after Rosslyn knowing that something terrifying had happened and not knowing who else it had happened to. “Everyone’s safe and you’re safe too now.” Sam turned his head slowly back to his father. “Okay, but…need…you’ll need to…move my car.” “Oh don’t worry about that, Sam, it’s all taken care of.” Michael placed his hand again on Sam’s face and watched as his eyes closed once more. Toby hadn’t achieved much since arriving home. He had sat down to take his shoes off and had remained there. The longer he sat, the less he wanted to return to the hospital. He rested his head back and sighed. The door buzzer startled him and glancing at his watch he realised he had fallen asleep. He looked down at his shoes that lay discarded before him and his stomach turned as he remembered why he had fallen asleep in his chair in the middle of the afternoon. “Hold on!” he called as he quickly got up and tried not to think about who was calling for him and why. The smell of pizza greeted him as he opened the door and he looked beyond the proffered box to see CJ. “It’s got anchovies, the thought of which makes me want to hurl, but I bought it anyway.” “Andy never would.” “Is that why you got divorced?” “It was a contributory factor.” Toby closed the door behind her and followed her to the kitchen. He watched as she got out plates and started to slice the pizza, carefully picking the anchovies off her slice. “You’re going back?” CJ asked although she knew that Toby would be. He nodded and chewed through a string of cheese before replying. “I fell asleep before you called. I only meant to come home for a shower. Anyway, Josh is there and Sam’s dad too.” “You shouldn’t feel bad about taking a break. Hey,” CJ waited until Toby looked up at her, “Sam will be okay.” She smiled but it was tired and uneasy. “Would it make you feel better if I ate an anchovy?” Toby shook his head but CJ saw the small smile that played on his lips before the bottle was lifted to them. Michael didn’t know what to expect when the President arrived and so when a few men in suits appeared, swiftly followed by a man in jeans and a sweatshirt, he had to look twice before he realised it was indeed the President who had just appeared in the doorway to the ICU. Michael and Josh stood. Josh introduced Michael and the two men shook hands. “Mr Seaborn, it’s a privilege to work with your son.” Michael, normally a man who was unfazed by most situations, found himself touched by Bartlet’s warm and sincere words. “I know he feels the same, Mr President.” Michael gestured to his chair then, making excuses about needing some fresh air. Josh followed him and pulled the screen back around the bed behind them. On the way over, Bartlet had been remembering a night when he had found himself alone in the West Wing and hearing that Sam was still there had gone looking for a late night chess game. When he had reached Sam’s office he had found him fast asleep, shoes off and his feet on his desk. Bartlet had called Sam’s name and watched with some amusement as the dishevelled man slowly woke, saw the President and jumped from his chair knocking his laptop and papers to the floor in the process. On seeing how mortified Sam was on being found asleep by him, Bartlet had managed not to laugh out loud and had mentioned it since far fewer times than he would normally have enjoyed. If he was embarrassed at being found sleeping, Bartlet could only imagine how Sam must be feeling now. As soon as he set eyes on him though he realised that Sam was clearly beyond feeling anything but sick, exhausted and bewildered and caring what the President thought of him was the last thing on his mind. Bartlet reached forward and placed his hand on Sam’s head. Sam’s gaze was still on the space where his father and Josh had disappeared through the screen and it was only the touch on his head that made him aware that someone else was there. He slowly turned his eyes towards his visitor. He recognised the warm smile that greeted him and tried to think of the name that went with it. His forehead furrowed into a frown. “Jed?” He knew that wasn’t right, that there was something else he should call this man. “That’s right, Sam. I wanted to see you. I hope you don’t mind.” Sam shook his head. “Good you…came…nice…you…to…” Sam’s voice trailed off and Bartlet nodded to show he understood what he was trying to say. “Sam, the man that did this to you, they caught him. I don’t want you to worry about that. He’s locked up and he’s got five States after him for what he did.” Sam knew that someone had done something to him and so hearing that whoever it was had been caught made him feel slightly safer. He knew there were others as well as he remembered seeing ambulances next to the one he went in. “Others?” Bartlet wasn’t sure what Sam meant and told him that it was only one man that had been caught. “No, others hurt, were there…how are…others?” “Oh, they’re fine, Sam. Don’t you worry about them. Just concentrate on getting well.” “Concentrate,” Sam repeated. Bartlet smiled and nodded. “Abbey sends her love. Leo would have sent a message but he doesn’t know I’m here on account of me sneaking out without telling him.” That gained a smile from Sam. “Leo cross?” “Oh he will be, Sam, but it was worth it. I’ll have to go soon because Ron is having some sort of breakdown in the corridor out there.” Bartlet leaned closer to Sam and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I doubt I’ll be able to come here again but I’ll see you when you get back to work. Remember my speech to the environmentalists is coming up? I’ll need you for that, Sam. So we’ll make it a date shall we?” Sam nodded slowly and was relieved to find that he was able to lift his hand from the bed. He raised it but could only move it slightly above the covers. He felt it taken, held firmly and placed gently down. Bartlet stood and looked down at Sam, whose eyes had closed. They half opened when Bartlet removed his hand from Sam’s shoulder and placed it on his head. Fingers gently brushed the bangs away and even more gently straightened the strap to the oxygen mask that had become twisted above his ear. “I’ll see you soon.” Sam could only manage a slow nod of agreement before his eyes closed once more but he felt his hand taken and held tightly again before the sound of the screens being moved told him his visitor had gone.


	9. Against the Dying of the Light 9

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Nine “And then there was the time we took Josh out to find his ‘sea legs’.” Michael smiled at the memory and Josh groaned. Toby had returned to the hospital to find them both still by Sam’s bed. Toby made himself comfortable as Michael embarked on yet another excruciatingly embarrassing tale about Josh. “Sam wanted Josh to have a few days rest before they joined you all in New Hampshire and thought that a trip on the Blue Jay would be just the ticket.” Toby glanced at Sam. The paralytics had nearly worn off but Sam was too lethargic to move and he couldn’t summon the energy to speak. Toby knew he could hear what was being said though, he could tell that from the way his eyes would occasionally open and he would seek out whoever was talking and try to focus on them. “Okay, I did find my sea legs, my sea legs were fine, it was the seaworthiness of your boat that I doubted and if Sam was awake he’d tell you the same thing.” “Josh threw up four times,” Michael told Toby. “And if Sam was awake he’d tell you that and how Josh begged us to find ‘some hard stuff’ to ‘land on’.” Toby felt something nudge his hand and looked down to see Sam’s hand reaching for his. It was seeing Sam focus on him that made Toby smile though. “Josh…can’t…can’t…sail…no…sea…sea legs.” “Thanks, Sam, I’ll remember that.” “True though,” Sam mumbled and managed a small smile, that was all he managed though before he drifted off once more. Michael leant back in his chair and Josh seemed to sag slightly in his. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “It was a beautiful day. I remember we stopped off at some bay and there was an amazing sunset.” Michael nodded and smiled. “We’ll go again, when Sam is better, we’ll go again.” He stood up and stretched. “And you should come, Toby. Believe me, you don’t know what comedy is until you’ve witnessed Josh on a boat.” Toby was about to agree but the sound of a woman’s voice from the other side of the screen stopped him. The look on Michael’s face told him who the voice belonged to. “I’ll listen to your archaic rules about numbers of visitors when I’ve seen my son, thank you.” The screen was pulled back and Diane Seaborn entered the small space, her overpowering perfume and equally overpowering presence making it seem even smaller. “Michael,” she said without looking at him. “Diane,” he returned and stood quickly offering her the seat. “This is Toby Zieglar, Sam’s boss and Josh-” “I know who Josh is.” She bent over and kissed Sam before sitting down beside the bed. “We’ll go get a drink or something,” Michael said and walked out without a backwards glance, Josh and Toby followed quickly behind. Once safely outside, Michael sighed and slowed his pace. “I can only be in that woman’s presence for a short while and that was longer than I’ve managed for quite some time.” Josh nodded in agreement. “It was pretty much a record for me too,” he agreed as he stuck his hands in his pockets and led the way to the canteen. When Sam woke, the first thing he noticed was that his friends’ voices had gone. The second was the strong smelling perfume. It made him feel sick. Diane sensed his waking and stroked his head and told him to open his eyes. “I’m here now and everything’s going to be okay.” She kissed his cheek gently. “There we are!” she said as his eyes opened. “I’m here, honey, everything’s going to be alright now.” “Mom…when did…you…when?” “Don’t speak, don’t worry about a thing, I’m here now.” Sam’s eyes closed again and he listened to the soft words of reassurance that his mother spoke. A doctor appeared and examined Sam and declared that he was comfortable. “Comfortable? He doesn’t look very comfortable to me.” Diane said as she watched her son’s eyes opening slightly at her raised voice. The doctor gestured towards the door and Diane stood and followed him. He led her to an office and proceeded to tell her Sam’s condition and prognosis in detail. She listened and nodded but she had already decided what needed to be done. “No, Mark, that’s fourteen people in six different States, seven in DC.” CJ brushed a strand of hair away from her face and waited for the next question. “Any news on Sam Seaborn’s condition?” It was an inevitable question. Apart from the newsworthy aspect of a senior staffer being included in the number of victims, Sam was well known and well liked by the press corps. “Sam’s responding well to treatment. His breathing has improved and the doctors have managed to stop the convulsions. He’s…” she glanced down at her notes, ‘comfortable’.” “But still critical?” “Stable,” CJ corrected but she knew that the doctor had used the word cautiously when she had spoken to him a few minutes earlier. “Does the President plan to visit Sam?” “He already has, Tom, which shows you don’t have to get up too early to sneak one past the press corps. Thanks everyone.” CJ walked out of the briefing room and found Toby waiting for her. “What’s happened?” “Nothing, sorry, nothing’s happened I just needed to come back and make some calls.” CJ relaxed and started walking back to her office. “Josh said Sam’s mom is there now.” “Yeah and the nurses drew the line at four of us round the bed so Josh and I decided to come back here.” They had entered the communications Bullpen and were passing Sam’s office. A flash of colour caught her eye and she walked over to the window. “We should do something about this.” Flowers and gifts had started to arrive the previous day and Sam’s desk and part of the floor was already covered with them. “They won’t have them in the ICU,” Toby said as he moved next to her and stared through the window. Toby bellowed for Ginger and told her to start organising something. He called her back as she turned to leave, “You should save the tags, take a photo or something…maybe…for Sam. It seems a shame to…” Toby saw CJ and Ginger’s expressions. “If either of you say ‘aw’ or use the word ‘sweet’ in response to my request things are going to get unpleasant.” CJ’s mouth opened but on seeing the glare Toby was levelling at her she thought better of it and went back to her office without saying a word. Doctor Keel’s shift had finished two hours ago but he had not yet left the ICU. He had seen nine victims of strychnine poisoning admitted since yesterday and seven of those had died. Julia Swan was responding well to treatment and he expected her to be released within the next few days. A nurse had woken him an hour ago and jokingly asked if he planned to stay on shift until Sam Seaborn was discharged. He had replied that he was and she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. He made his way to the ICU and checked himself when he realised he was hoping that CJ would be there. He had enough to deal with without getting involved with his patient’s visitors. He allowed a tired smile to cross his face though as he thought about the number of calls he had received from her today. Most of them had been made in order to gain an update for her briefings, all of them were clearly indicative of her concern for her friend but Keel couldn’t help but feel hopeful that at least some of them were made with a desire to speak to him. He laughed gently at his vanity and shook his head as he entered the ICU. He was surprised to find that there were no visitors around Sam’s bed and so he picked up the chart and sat in one of the chairs. He studied the information and the readings on the various machines. He placed the chart gently on the bed and rubbed at his eyes. He removed his hand to find Sam looking up at him with a confused expression. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m Dr Keel, do you remember me?” Sam nodded and so Keel continued. “Can you tell me where you are?” He expected Sam to say at home but was relieved when he answered that he was in a hospital. “That’s right. Do you remember why?” Sam shook his head and his forehead creased. “They caught him.” Sam remembered the President telling him that he wasn’t to worry about the man who had hurt him. “Was…did he…shoot me?” He didn’t know what it felt like to be shot but he was in pain, he was frightened, the President had told him the man had been caught and he was in a hospital so he supposed he must have been. “You’ve got some strychnine in your body and it’s making you very ill but you’re fighting and you’re better than you were.” Keel was careful not to use the word poisoned. People tended to react badly to being told that. Sam closed his eyes then looked at Keel again. “Am I…going…to die?” “You’re doing well, Sam. You’ve had a very rough twenty-four hours and you’re still very ill. Just keep fighting.” “Don’t treat…me…treat me…like…like an…like an…” “Like an idiot?” Keel suggested and Sam nodded slowly and closed his eyes. “You’re ill, Sam, very ill, but you came into this healthy, strong and you’re obviously a fighter.” Sam had never really understood it when people were described as being a fighter. He hadn’t fought he just hadn’t died. Dr Keel asked Sam about his pain and listened to his chest. He scribbled a few notes on the chart and then sat back down. “I’ll sit with you until your parents get back, shall I?” “Yeah, thanks…that…be good. Name…again?” “Doctor Keel.” Sam’s eyes fluttered opened and he managed to look at Keel and silently thank him. He didn’t like being alone. He had stopped floating but he was worried that if he was on his own he might start again and no one would even know about it let alone be able to stop him. He listened to the sounds around him; a trolley being pushed past the bed; nurses’ voices; an intercom in the corridor outside; the doors to the unit opening and closing. He turned his head towards Keel but didn’t open his eyes. “Thought I was home.” “I know you did, Sam, I know you did.” In the early hours of the evening, Toby found himself wandering towards CJ’s office. He’d spent the last few hours trying to complete as much of the work as possible that he wouldn’t be able to do at the hospital. Josh had spent them asleep on CJ’s sofa while she had read briefing notes that Sam had written for her two days ago. “Doesn’t Sam like Tom Bolton?” she asked as she batted Josh’s feet out of the way and joined him on the sofa. “Hates him,” he replied without opening his eyes. “What made you ask that?” “I’m reading some notes Sam left me about him and I’m reading between the lines. Also Sam’s drawn a pair of horns on the picture of him.” Toby entered the room and perched on CJ’s desk. “Who’s drawn a pair of horns? “Sam, on a picture of Tom Bolton.” “Hates him,” Toby replied. Josh nodded in agreement and then sighed deeply before opening his eyes and slowly sitting up. “Are you going back to the hospital?” Toby was about to answer when CJ’s phone rang. He reached behind him and handed it to her. He took her place on the sofa and turned Sam’s notes towards him, smiling at the image of Bolton that Sam had desecrated. He wasn’t really listening to CJ but there was a shift in her tone that made him pay attention. He noticed Josh sit up straighter too. It was only when he heard CJ’s next words that his stomach turned. “They’re both here with me, Ginger. What’s wrong?” CJ rubbed at her brow and stared at the ground as she listened to Ginger’s reply. After a few moments she replaced the phone but her gaze remained on the floor. “CJ?” Josh stood up. “Sam’s…” CJ pushed herself away from the desk and straightened as she took a deep breath. “Sam went into cardiac arrest twenty minutes ago. He arrested twice but the-” “He’s going to pass out,” Toby mumbled as he passed CJ and pulled Josh towards the sofa, pushing his head down onto his knees and then nodding at CJ to carry on. “They got him back quickly both times. They’ve intubated him again and he’s been moved to a private room. They think…he had another fit and they think it caused…” CJ walked over to the sofa, sat down beside Josh and rubbed his back. “I don’t really know what they think, after I heard cardiac arrest I kind of zoned out.” Slowly, Josh raised his head and leant back against the sofa. “Give me a couple of minutes and we’ll go.” “Eat something first,” Toby ordered and raised his hand at the start of a protest. “Don’t argue with me, Josh, just eat something. You obviously haven’t today and you’re going to be no use to Sam if you keel over in the middle of the ICU.” “Sam’s been moved out of there, did I say that?” CJ asked but she went unanswered. Toby went to Josh’s office and picked up his coat and bag then he went to his own and did the same. Ginger came to the doorway and watched as Toby collected his things then started to place items from his desk into one of the drawers. “Ginger, did they say anything else…about Sam…about how he was, did they say what the er…how he …” The sudden noise of the desk drawer being pulled out and thrown onto the floor made Ginger jump and she hurried into the room closing the door behind her. Toby leant on his desk and breathed deeply as she bent down to pick up the contents that had scattered across the floor. “Leave it. Don’t worry about it. Sorry about that.” Ginger remembered the hug Toby had given her when she had gone into work the night of the shooting. She looked at him now, still hunched over, his face pale and hands gripping tightly at the edge of the desk. She waited for him to straighten and then approached him warily, wondering if he would snap again and tip the whole desk over if she touched him. He didn’t. In fact he welcomed her comforting embrace and for a brief few moments he didn’t think about being strong for Sam or calm for Josh but allowed someone else to be strong and calm for him.


	10. Against the Dying of the Light 10

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Ten It had been dark before but now it was pitch black. The room was silent as well. Noises from outside could only be heard when the door was opened but even then they were muted. There was a fire exit light above the door. He didn’t like the dark. The doctor had told him why it had to be so dark and quiet but he didn’t like it. It was too easy to slip away unnoticed. There had been no visitors, not since he had been moved in here. At least, he hadn’t heard anyone and he was sure his dad would make his presence known no matter how still and quiet he was supposed to be. People were there though. A nurse sat in the corner of the room and Doctor Keel had made frequent visits since having Sam moved. He had contacted Dr Nashton, the specialist who had seen Sam on his admission, and together they were frantically trying to find a way to end Sam’s convulsions. Dr Nashton had already told Keel that he didn’t think Sam would survive another attack. They were deep in conversation, studying x-rays and charts when Toby, CJ and Josh stepped out of the elevator. The first thing Toby saw was the secret service agent and knew from his changed position where Sam’s new room was. He decided to skip Dr Keel and headed straight for Sam’s room. “Mr Ziegler, hold on please.” Keel came rushing over and although his head was full of Nashton’s theories he still managed to flash a quick glance in CJ’s direction before reaching her frazzled friend. “No visitors. Not for a while anyway. Sam’s parents have both gone back to their hotels and I suggest you three go home as well. It’s vital that we stop the convulsions and one way of doing that is to keep him completely isolated from noise and light which can trigger them.” “I just want to see him,” Toby explained. “I won’t stay, I won’t touch anything. I just want to see him.” Dr Keel looked at him before nodding and then slowly opening the door to Sam’s room. Toby stood inside the doorway for a few moments to get used to the darkened room. Although Dr Keel was hoping they had given Sam the right mixture of drugs to control the convulsions he didn’t want to take any chances and so Toby was under strict instructions not to raise his voice, touch, or surprise Sam in any way. He made his way slowly over to the bed. His footsteps sounded deafening in the silent room and he unconsciously tip-toed the remainder of distance to Sam. When he got to Sam’s bed he stood still, unsure of what to do next. He realised that he had gone to the side that didn’t have a chair. He thought about crossing to the other side but having made it so silently to the bed he didn’t want to tempt fate by moving again. Between the drugs and the effects of the cardiac arrests, Sam was incapable of doing little more than opening his eyes but he remained unaware of Toby’s presence and didn’t stir. Toby stared down at Sam for a few minutes before crouching down beside the bed and placing his hand gently next to Sam’s. He didn’t touch it for fear that even that slight movement might trigger another attack. “I’m here, Sam, I’m still here. Nobody’s letting you go, so you hang on…you just…hang on,” he whispered. He stood up slowly and glanced up to find the illuminated green exit logo above the door to show him the way out. Once outside he took a few moments to become accustomed to the light and then walked over to Josh. Diane and Michael had returned and were having a quiet but heated conversation on the other side of the corridor. CJ was holding a tray of coffee and sandwiches which made Toby realise how hungry he was. She was making no headway towards him though as Dr Keel was talking to her and she showed no sign of moving. “What’s going on with those two?” Toby asked Josh of Sam’s parents. Josh shrugged and went back to studying his feet. “I don’t think I want to go in there just yet.” “Then don’t,” Toby answered easily. “He’s not awake anyway and judging by the drugs they’ve pumped into him, won’t be for a while.” He looked again at Michael, he had his hands on his hips and Toby smiled as he thought of the similar stance Sam adopted when he was mad. “No!” Michael stepped away from his ex-wife with his hands in the air. “I’m not going to let you turn this into a circus with you playing the long suffering mother at the centre of it all. This is about Sam, not you. For once just be there for him with no ulterior motives!” Aware that all eyes were on her, Diane bit back her retort and walked back over to Michael instead. “Don’t you stand there telling me about being there for Sam! I was always there, for everything. It was you who showed up when the mood took you!” “And every time I did it meant more than any of your sycophantic forays into Sam’s schools and college. You were there, Diane, but you weren’t there for Sam.” Michael groaned and wiped at his face. He seemed to sag slightly before addressing Diane quietly, “I’m not sure if Sam would want a priest and I don’t think you are either. We should ask his friends or wait until he’s more lucid. Please don’t go charging ahead with this.” “I’m going to phone Father Kelly and I’m going to do it now. Sam would want this. I don’t need to ask him to know that.” Michael watched Diane walk off and shook his head. He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets before walking over to Toby and Josh. “She wants Sam to have the last rites. She says it’s okay because they’re not called the last rites anymore they’re called something else and they’re not just for people who are dying so I should stop being so dramatic about it.” He sat down on the end of the row of chairs and Josh and Toby waited for him to continue. “She doesn’t know what Sam would want. I don’t think she even cares that much for what Sam would want.” Toby stood up and went over to the window on Sam’s door. “What would Sam want?” he asked and when no one answered he turned around to find Josh shrugging. “I thought Sam wasn’t Catholic. I’d always assumed he was for some reason and once I made some comment about how ‘his people’ call a lie a sin of omission and he told me he wasn’t Catholic.” Toby turned back to the window and tried to make Sam out in the dark room. “I'm not Catholic; it's what everybody calls a sin of omission. Bartlet lied to us.” Toby closed his eyes as he remembered how disillusioned Sam had been after being told about Bartlet’s MS and the night he had found him going over the transcript, desperately trying to find a statement that he could accept as an apology from the President. “We could have gotten it done. If he just told us at the beginning, this could have been a whole different...” Toby winced as he remembered how his reply to that had been to tell Sam to go home. Everyone had been so busy trying to cope with what had happened that they had all cut themselves off from each other. Sam and CJ had been the biggest victims of that and Toby knew he was lucky that they had somehow found a way through. He turned away from the window and walked back to the seats. “I can’t sit here and tell you what Sam would or wouldn’t want but I’m pretty sure that he isn’t practising.” “Yeah, well, philosophies aside, I don’t think this is a good idea. I mean, can you imagine it: you’re lying in a hospital bed feeling like crap almighty and you come round to find a priest hovering over you. I think that would be enough to give anyone convulsions!” Josh and Toby glanced at each other and then back at Michael who stood and placed his hands on his hips. “Well, wouldn’t it?” Michael’s face was red and his expression one of such earnestness that Josh couldn’t help the bubble of laughter from escaping. The contrast of Michael’s stance and Josh’s reaction to it made Toby shake his head and rub at his eyes. It was only when Michael heard the gentle sound of both men’s laughter that he sat back down and sighed. He waited for them to finish and then added, “Well it would though.” CJ, having finished her conversation with Dr Keel, walked over to the three men. “I’ve got drinks and I’ve got food. The drinks are cold and the food has clearly seen better days but this is all you can expect from a highly motivated, independent, career minded woman.” Josh thought of a retort but couldn’t summon the energy to voice it and stood and helped himself to a limp sandwich and cold cup of coffee instead. “Tell her about the priest,” he told Toby. “What about the priest?” she asked and Michael took a bite of his sandwich, leant back in his chair and listened to his son’s friends. Agents Singleton and Darkin were only too aware of the responsibility that rested on them. They had both felt proud at first to be selected to go to New York to talk to Joseph Hannity but now that they were in the car and on their way, the full importance of the task ahead was coming home to them. Agent Singleton looked at the passing cars as they made their way towards New York. “You know, if we come back and we don’t have anything to tell Ron about Hannity’s motives then-” “We’ll make it up.” Darkin finished for him. “Or I’ll hide and you can tell him. Both options would suit me.” “Some partner you turned out to be. Anyway, at least we’d get off reasonably lightly.” “How so?” “Well, we’ll only have to explain it Ron, he’ll have to explain it to POTUS.” Darkin whistled and nodded and took some comfort from that fact. Diane Seaborn had wasted no time and had already contacted Father Kelly, an old friend of the family who was now based in DC. He had arranged to come the following morning and Diane was now sitting outside the hospital phoning friends and relatives and updating them on Sam’s condition. She didn’t see Toby exit the hospital and walk towards her and was just ending her fourth call as he walked up to the bench. “Can I join you?” “Certainly.” Diane moved her address book and phone and scooted along. There was a silence that whilst not awkward certainly wasn’t pleasant. Toby ended it, “Michael told us that you’ve arranged for a Priest to-” Diane turned towards Toby and placed her hand on his arm. “Mr Ziegler, I know that as Sam’s boss you feel a certain obligation to make sure that he-” “Yes I’m Sam’s boss, but I’m here because I’m his friend and it’s as his friend that I want to talk to you about Father Kelly.” “Michael doesn’t waste any time getting people on his side. He also doesn’t know Sam as well as I do and you just have to trust me that I know what Sam would want.” Toby looked at Diane for a few moments before replying. It unnerved her slightly but she didn’t let it show. “With respect, Mrs Seaborn, in this case, I don’t think you do. And even if you do I think the decision should be Sam’s.” Her eyes widened and she smiled. “I can see Michael has managed to charm you like he does everyone else. I would have thought someone of your aptitude would have seen through him but obviously not.” She placed her phone and book in her bag and then turned back to Toby. “The Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick isn’t just for people who are dying it’s for those who are ill.” She stood and looked down at Toby. “You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you that I know my son and it’s what he’d want.” “You’ve asked him?” “I’m sorry?” “Have you asked Sam what he wants?” Diane glanced up to see Josh standing by the hospital entrance. He was drinking from a bottle of water and not looking in their direction but she suddenly felt out of her depth. It was a feeling she seldom experienced. “Of course I haven’t asked him. You seem to be missing my point which is that I don’t need to ask him.” Toby didn’t answer. He looked up at Diane but the sun was in his eyes and she couldn’t tell if he was smiling or squinting at her. He nodded, stood and walked away without saying another word. Diane let him catch up to Josh and watched them enter the hospital together before following. The area outside the ICU was quieter when Toby and Josh returned, so quiet that Josh jumped when Toby suddenly said, “Hah!” “What?” Josh asked. “Nothing.” “No, hang on, you said hah.” “It’s nothing. Listen, I’m going to speak to the nurses, find out if I can talk to Sam.” Josh nodded and returned to the chairs outside Sam’s room. He looked around and tried to work out what had caused Toby’s exclamation but all he could see was CJ and Dr Keel standing at the other end of the corridor. The West Wing in the evening was one of Charlie’s favourite times. He savoured the relative quietness of the Oval Office and usually managed to find some time to devote to his studies. This evening was not one of those times. “Charlie!” Charlie sighed and closed his book as he went to answer the President’s fifth summons of the evening. Bartlet put down the papers he was holding as he saw Charlie enter the room. “I’m doing something tomorrow, remind me, long skirts come into it somewhere.” “You’re watching Hawaiian Hula and Butoh dancing at the Washington Centre and then giving a speech in celebration of National Dance Week.” Bartlet looked at Charlie over his glasses. “Yeah, see that’s an area I don’t have much expertise in. I must have missed that week in college.” He walked over to a trolley and poured two cups of tea. “We’re in support of it I take it?” “National Dance Week? Yes, I think we’re pretty much behind that one.” “Just want to make sure, it’s no good me taking a stand against Butoh if we’re actually fully for it.” He picked up the two cups and gestured to the sofa. “Is CJ here? She could brief me on the finer nuisances of the Hula.” “She’s at the hospital.” Bartlet nodded. “Has Toby written the speech yet, maybe we could go over that?” “He’s at the hospital.” “What’s Josh up to? I was meant to meet with him this morning and then the thing with Anderson came up.” “He’s at-” “…the hospital. Are any of my staff here?” Charlie shook his head. Bartlet studied his cup for a moment, turning it slowly in his hands. “Ron sent two agents to New York to interview Joseph Hannity. It’s a hell of a thing trying to understand why someone would do something like that.” He took a sip of coffee and then placed the cup down. “Tell me about that book you’re reading.” They were still there two hours later, their only interruption the hourly calls from the hospital. “Where is Sam’s bag?” Josh’s sudden question made CJ, who had been falling asleep, sit upright. “What bag?” Toby asked. Josh stood and despite tripping over CJ’s shoes, paced around the small day room. “Donna packed a bag for him but then he got moved and I can’t remember where it went after that. I should go look for it, it’s got some stuff in it that he wouldn’t want to lose. I’ll go look for it.” “Josh, sit down.” Toby’s head had already gone back to rest on the arm of the sofa and he closed his eyes, confident that Josh would sit down and continue to wait for Dr Keel who had promised to see them as soon as he finished examining Sam. CJ stretched and then patted the seat beside her. Josh walked over to her and she took his hand. It was only a few moments later that Dr Keel entered the room and for once, he was smiling.


	11. Against the Dying of the Light 11

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Eleven “I’m confident we’ve finally managed to control Sam’s seizures.” Keel said as he shut the door behind him and walked over to the spare chair. At his words a wave of relief swept over the room and even Josh managed to relax slightly on hearing them. “The fact that we’ve done that means that the chances of Sam having another cardiac arrest are much less. His breathing is still a concern and obviously I’ll be a lot happier when he’s more lucid but his condition has certainly improved from what it was earlier today.” “So you’re saying he’s going to-” Keel interrupted, knowing what Josh was about to ask, “I’m not saying anything, Josh. I think it’s amazing that Sam has got this far and I think the fact that he has, bodes incredibly well for his chances of a continued recovery but I’m not saying anything further than that.” Josh turned to Toby. “Tell him about the priest.” Josh listened as Toby told Dr Keel his concerns about Diane’s plans. Keel could do little more than offer the services of the hospital chaplain, agree that Sam should be asked first and confirm to Toby that he probably wouldn’t be lucid enough to discuss it until tomorrow. Dr Keel stood then and after suggesting they all went home to get some much needed sleep, offered to walk CJ to her car. “Hah!” Toby said as the door closed behind them. “What? What is it with you and the hahs?” Toby turned to Josh with a look that seemed to imply that if he couldn’t see it then he didn’t deserve to be told. They gathered their coats and bags and Josh mumbled something about feeling like he hadn’t slept for days. Toby agreed even though he knew that sleep, no matter how much he craved it, would elude him until he could speak to Sam about Diane’s plans. Toby spent the night trying to get some rest but by dawn had conceded defeat and spent the next couple of hours drinking tea and completing unfinished crosswords. By six o’clock he was walking along the corridor that led to Sam’s room a gift for the nurses in his hand. “Mr Ziegler, I do hope you’re not under the impression that strict hospital regulations, which are in place for important reasons, can be ignored for the sake of a few Danish pastries?” Nurse Stevens asked with a frown. “Of course not.” “Are there Cinnamon ones in there?” “Yes.” “Well in you go then, Mr Ziegler. Personally, I’d bend hospital regulations for an iced doughnut but it’s nice that you think it would take a whole bag.” The nurse winked at him and took the bag away to the staff room. He had phoned earlier and knew that Sam had not had the peaceful night that Keel had predicted. A fever had kept him awake and although it had dropped now, Sam remained restless. Toby was surprised at how small he had thought the room was when he had visited in darkness. The window that he hadn’t known was there was large and the rising sun cast a soft red glow into the room. Sam’s eyes were closed but his hand was moving slowly on the covers. Toby coughed gently in an effort not to startle him. He needn’t have worried as Sam’s responses were sluggish and his eyes opened slowly as he became aware of Toby’s presence. The last thing Toby was expecting Sam to do was smile at him and the sight of it threw him momentarily. He cleared his throat, mumbled a ‘hey’ and moved towards the bed. He had gone over what he wanted to say to Sam many times during the night. He knew Sam’s attention would be limited and his understanding much slower than usual so he had planned a succinct way of explaining what was happening and asking him what he needed to. Now that he was here though, Toby found he could do little more than sit by the bed and savour the fact that Sam appeared to be lucid. Sam seemed similarly content to simply look at his friend and be comforted by his presence. He knew he was in hospital. He couldn’t remember why but he knew he hadn’t been shot. Someone had told him that, the President maybe? He knew the President had told him something, perhaps that he wasn’t going to die, he was sure someone had told him that. He thought Toby looked worried. Sam knew he was going to say something important to him and needed him to listen but he wasn’t ready to listen yet, he wasn’t ready, he needed to concentrate. He needed to help Toby but he wasn’t ready. “What? What do you need?” Toby watched as Sam pulled his hand from Toby’s and started to pat the covers then try to reach the cabinet beside the bed. “Glasses,” Sam answered still struggling to raise his hand over the bedrail. “You don’t need your glasses, Sam,” Toby explained gently. “Where…are…where are…they?” Sam seemed fixated on having his glasses so Toby patted at his pockets until he found them. He had picked them up off the floor of his office from where a paramedic had placed them and they had stayed in his pocket ever since. “Here, look, they’re here. I’ll just put them on the side here.” Sam shook his head and held out his hand so Toby placed them carefully into it. He watched as Sam’s fingers curled around them, covering the lenses that he was usually so fastidious about touching. “Sam, I know you’re confused right now but I need to ask you something that you’re-” “Wasn’t shot…what though…what happened to me?” Of all the things Dr Keel had said, Toby tried desperately to remember what he had said about what Sam had been told. He had been warned Sam would probably ask the same questions the first few times he woke but it surprised Toby to find how hard it was to hear Sam asking questions that had already been answered. “You’ve got some strychnine in your body and it’s made you ill but you’re doing really well now and the doctors are taking good care of you.” Toby looked at Sam hoping his words had been of some comfort but he was greeted with a frown. Slowly Sam lifted his hand and passed his glasses to Toby who placed them on the cabinet. Any hopes he had of talking to Sam this morning were dashed by Sam’s behaviour. “Get some rest. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” “Did I help?” Sam asked. “Yeah, you helped.” He stayed until he was sure Sam was asleep and then went back to his car. He glanced at the clock then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He dialled the number, tapping his finger against his forehead while he waited. “Father Kelly, this is Toby Ziegler. I work with Sam Seaborn. There’s something I need to discuss with you. Can we meet? Agent Singleton almost smiled when he saw the look of relief on Ron’s face as he told him what he and Darkin had found out about Joseph Hannity. They had spent two hours with him and that, together with the police reports and statements, was enough to convince them that he had planned and carried out the attacks on his own. The medical reports convinced them that he was mentally ill, not that they had needed a doctor to convince them of that. “You absolutely made his day sending two secret service agents to talk to him,” Darkin told Ron. “He was loving it,” Singleton agreed. “He kept going on about the longevity of horror and how he was going to be remembered.” Ron sat back and rubbed at his eyes. “We get threats every week and we categorise them, deal with them, eliminate them. I just thought, I just wondered if we’d missed one.” It was a moment of weakness that Ron would never normally allow his colleagues to see. It was fleeting and before the two agents could think of something to say in reply Ron had sat forward and opened one of the files on Hannity. “Let’s get down to it then.” Darkin and Singleton exchanged a look before they listened to Ron’s questions. “For someone who’s supposedly rushed over here on the first plane, she certainly seems to have brought a lot of clothes with her.” Josh nodded at Michael’s words as they both watched Diane who was standing at the end of the corridor waiting for Father Kelly to arrive. “And shoes,” Josh added. They had both been thrown out of Sam’s room but Josh was in no hurry to leave. He wanted to know what Father Kelly was going to say when he arrived. He didn’t have to wait long. Toby appeared from the elevator closely followed by father Kelly who made straight for Diane. “Diane, so good to see you again but in such terrible circumstances I hope I can be of some comfort.” He took Diane’s hands in his and got straight to the point. “Since we spoke, I’ve talked to Michael and Sam’s friends and I need to speak to Sam before I go ahead with the sacrament.” Diane started to object but Father Kelly carried on. “I’ve seen Sam in church once since he’s been in DC and that was for the funeral of a Congressman. I trust that you believe this is what Sam would want but I need to be sure of that and I know that you understand that, Diane.” Josh raised his eyebrows, “Man, he’s good.” He turned away from the scene of Diane being led to some nearby chairs and looked up at Toby. “What happens now?” Toby shrugged. “He’ll talk to Sam I guess, which, if this morning was anything to go by, won’t be too productive.” Josh looked at the door to Sam’s room. “Is it worth asking if I can go in before I head back to the office?” “I doubt it the doctors are still in there. You go back, I’m going to hang around for a while and then head in.” Josh slung his bag over his shoulder and took a last look at Sam’s room before heading down the corridor. Toby waited. He had nothing to be at work for until later and he wanted Dr Keel to come out of Sam’s room and tell him that Sam had ‘turned the corner’ or some other recovery cliché. He wanted him to say that Sam was lucid and that Toby would be able to go and tell him that he would be okay, order him to be okay, and see the understanding and compliance in Sam’s eyes for himself. He wanted Sam to tell him he was going to be okay. He wanted to look at Sam and not see confusion and fear looking back at him. He wanted to talk to his friend. The door to Sam’s room opened suddenly and made Toby jump as he was drawn from his reverie. He stood and walked over to Keel followed by Michael and swiftly joined by Diane. “His breathing is a little better. He’s more lucid but his fever is high.” He waited for questions but there were none. Father Kelly stepped forward and held out his hand. “I don’t know if you remember me Doctor.” “I remember you, Father.” Keel knew that Toby had spoken to Kelly and he also knew that he would be keen to speak to Sam. “You can go in and speak to him. As I said, he’s more lucid now but he becomes confused easily and the fever obviously isn’t helping. Please be as brief as you can.” Father Kelly assured him he would. Diane made to follow him but he placed a hand on her arm. His expression needed no words to enforce the message that she should remain outside. She moved immediately away from the group. “If I was a benevolent man I’d buy this hospital some decent seating.” Michael said as they sat down. Toby nodded in agreement and settled in for another uncomfortable wait. Father Kelly paused by the door to Sam’s room before walking towards the bed. He looked at the young man who he had known in California but had only seen once since he and Sam had been in DC. He smiled as he remembered the only occasion that Sam had been to his church and how during the service Sam had spent the whole time looking at his feet, aware of his non-attendance at Kelly’s services. Aware that someone had entered the room, Sam opened his eyes and they widened on seeing the old friend of his family. “Father.” he tried to sit up but only managed to raise his head and shoulders slightly before sinking back down onto the pillow. “Hello, Sam.” Father Kelly moved over to the bed and sat down. “It’s been a long time.” A small smile crossed Sam’s face. “It’s nice…thank you…coming.” “Is there anything you need?” Sam shook his head and then closed his eyes. “Sam, I know you’re very tired but there’s something I need to ask you. Your mother asked me to come here this morning.” He leant forward. “Sam, would you like the Sacrament of the Sick?” Sam stared up at Father Kelly and then closed his eyes. On opening them he nodded slowly. “Sam, I need you to tell me,” Kelly told him. Slowly, Sam’s arm lifted from the bed and he reached for Kelly’s hand. He nodded again. “Yes…yes please.” He felt his hand grasped in return. “Would you like anyone else here?” “Toby…dad…” Sam squeezed the Priest’s hand, “would like…can you…confession first?” “Of course.” Kelly removed his hands from Sam’s and stood to retrieve his bag from the side of the bed. “What about your mother? She’s outside.” Sam’s eyes closed again and he mumbled something that Kelly couldn’t hear. When his eyes opened there was an emotion in them that Father Kelly couldn’t read. “Okay.” Sam watched as Kelly placed the items he would need to perform the sacrament on the bedside table. The consecrated oil was in a shiny container and Sam stared at the distorted image of the window reflected onto it. His name was called twice before he returned his attention back to father Kelly. Sam concentrated on his words and spoke his own stiltedly as Kelly listened patiently and responded. When it was over, he stood and asked Sam again if he was sure he wanted his parents and Toby present. Sam repeated that he did and so he left the room and went back outside to where they waited. Toby and Michael stood when Kelly came out of Sam’s room. Diane had remained at the far end of the corridor but she walked quickly back towards the group on seeing him. “Sam has said he would like me to perform the Anointing of the Sick. He’s also told me he would like you present.” Father Kelly tried not to imagine how Diane would have reacted if Sam had asked for Toby and Michael only. Father Kelly quickly went to the nurses’ station to tell them what was happening and ask that they not be disturbed.


	12. Against the Dying of the Light 12

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Twelve Sam managed a smile on seeing his father and then looked across at Toby who was trying to hide the multitude of emotions he was feeling. “It’s alright, Toby,” Sam said and Toby realised he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding them at all. Michael and Toby stood at the side of the bed on the opposite Father Kelly. Diane seemed unsure of where to stand and eventually decided that the end of the bed would be the best place. "Through this Holy Anointing may the Lord in His love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit." Toby listened to the words and focused on Father Kelly’s hands as they traced the cross on Sam’s forehead. Sam turned his hands so his palms were facing up and Father Kelly repeated the action on them as well. "May He who frees you from sin save you and raise you up." Toby looked down at his own hands which were clasped in front of him and silently recited a psalm. When he looked up again Father Kelly was concluding the sacrament. "Per istam sanctam unctionem, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid deliquisti, Amen." Michael and Diane said Amen also and Diane crossed herself. Michael thanked Father Kelly and then bent down and kissed Sam. The priest began to pack his bag and Diane moved to the side of the bed and sat down. The sun had moved and was shining into the room. Toby didn’t know if it was that, the beauty of the priest’s words or the silence that now enveloped the room that made him feel so at peace. He only hoped Sam was feeling it too. He looked at him and could see in his eyes that he was. Sam had looked at Father Kelly during the Sacrament but now that it was over he turned to his dad. It was clear he could hardly keep his eyes open and Michael told him to go to sleep. “Don’t mind us, son, you go ahead and rest.” He picked up a cloth from the bedside table and gently sponged Sam’s face and throat carefully avoiding the Holy oil that remained on his forehead. Father Kelly placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam whispered his thanks to him. He squeezed to let Sam know he had heard and then shook hands with Michael and Toby. Diane followed him from the room. “I’m glad he had it,” Michael said to Toby in hushed tones. “Yeah, it was, I don’t know, more uplifting than I expected.” Toby sat down beside the bed but Sam was already drifting off to sleep. He brushed some hair away from Sam’s forehead and laid his hand on his head. “El na refa na lah.” He spoke the words quietly and remained looking at Sam for a while before slowly standing, nodding a goodbye at Michael and heading back to work. Eight days passed. For Josh they passed agonisingly slowly as he waited for some clear sign that Sam was on the mend. They passed equally slowly for Toby but he wasn’t looking for signs of improvement, he was just thankful for each day that passed without deterioration in Sam’s condition. Sam’s breathing neither worsened nor improved. His fever dipped and rose but mainly stayed slightly above normal. He was sluggish and his slow responses concerned Dr Keel almost as much as Sam’s inability to remain lucid for any length of time. It wasn’t any of this that had Toby so worried though. He was worried about Sam’s state of mind. He knew that Sam was confused and exhausted but he didn’t think that was the sole cause of Sam’s despondency. After the initial days in hospital there had been signs that Sam was trying to break through the cloud of drugs and exhaustion. A comment or tightening of his hand was enough for Toby to know that Sam was fighting. But, in the past few days such signs had stopped. Even when lucid, Sam showed little interest in who was with him. If his hand was squeezed the pressure was not returned. It took a while to even gain his attention which seemed fixed on the wall or ceiling. Toby expressed his concern to Dr Keel but he seemed to think Sam’s depression was a normal reaction to the illness and that fighting the affects of it was taking any strength he had. “It’s not like, Sam,” Toby insisted as he walked towards Sam’s room with Keel. “Of course it isn’t, but you can’t predict how someone will respond to something like this. A certain amount of depression following a major illness is reasonably common and Sam’s still got a long way to go.” Toby wondered if Keel was right and he was just obsessing over this because there was nothing he could do about the physical aspects of Sam’s condition. “Yeah, maybe, I just think he needs to try to…” Toby shrugged helplessly at the doctor. “I don’t know.” Keel stopped in front of the door to Sam’s room and placed his hand on Toby’s arm, “Look, Sam is exhausted, bewildered, frightened, nauseated, in pain, and struggling to breathe, does that sound like a recipe for pep and ginger to you?” “Well, when you put it like that…” Toby sighed and followed Keel into the room. “Good morning, Sam. I hear you’ve had a good night’s rest.” Keel stood by the side of the bed but Toby held back. He watched as Sam’s gaze slowly drifted away from the ceiling and towards Keel. He nodded slowly and then turned back to his study of the ceiling tiles. “Your oxygen levels have increased slightly which is good news and we’ve reduced the pain meds.” Keel continued as if Sam was still focused on him, “How are you feeling, Sam. Do you think your pain has decreased?” Sam shrugged. “How much longer?” “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re asking do you mean how much longer until you feel less pain?” Sam frowned, “No, how much…longer…until it’s over?” Keel’s attempt at the cheerful doctor routine hadn’t gained the reaction he’d hoped for. He glanced briefly at Toby before sitting down beside the bed. “It’s going to be a little while yet, Sam. You’re better than you were but you’re still pretty ill and need to stay here so we can keep giving you the drugs and care you need to make you better as quickly as possible.” “Oh.” Sam closed his eyes and turned away from Keel. “I know you might not feel it but everyday you’re getting a little stronger.” Keel waited for a response but there was none. He gestured for Toby to follow him out. “Let him have some time alone. Come back tonight.” Toby reluctantly agreed and headed back to the West Wing. He left the parking lot and drove slowly, purposefully taking a longer route. He tried to think what Sam was normally like when he was ill and realised he had never known Sam to be sick. He thought of ways that he could try to get Sam to respond and made a mental list of books he could take on his next visit. He wondered briefly if talking to him about work might make him more animated but dismissed the notion when he realised Abbey Bartlet would literally kill him if she found out he had been taking the West Wing into Sam’s room. Settled on his course of action he changed lanes and sped up. He had only been back in his office for a few moments when Josh came to tell him that they were needed in the Oval. Toby shot a quizzical look at Josh but he had already left the room and set such a pace that Toby wasn’t able to keep up with him. CJ was sitting opposite Leo and looked up at Toby as he took a seat beside her. “I wanted to tell you what Ron has found out about Hannity.” Bartlet walked over and sat down in front of his staff. “Joseph Hannity wanted to see what would happen if he injected strychnine into some of the coffee he was transporting from the warehouse where he works. He wanted to see how long it would take to find him. He wanted to see what the news coverage would be like. So far he seems to have enjoyed every moment that he’s spent in custody. Joseph Hannity is a sick man.” Bartlet looked at his staff. He’d seen them work beyond the point of exhaustion many times but he had never seen them looking so weary or despondent. “Maybe it’s better this way? Maybe Sam will find it easier to accept than if it was a targeted attack?” “Why would he?” Josh leant forward slightly when he asked the question and Leo noticed the tensing of Toby’s frame. “Well, I just think that Sam might be able to forgive or at least make sense of the actions of a mentally unstable man more easily than an attack motivated by-” “You don’t know what Sam’s thinking!” Josh stood up and Leo told him to sit down. It wasn’t so much that he had interrupted the President, although that was bad enough, it was the tone he had used to do it. “And you do?” Bartlet’s response so surprised the others that they made no further move to calm either man down. “I know a thing or two about trying not to feel like a victim.” Leo stood but Bartlet held his hand up to him allowing Josh to continue. “I know what it’s like to have your world shattered and your ideals shaken for a reason that repulses you. I know what it’s like and now Sam does too. So don’t stand there and tell me that I don’t know what he’s thinking. I know what he’s thinking.” Bartlet looked like he was about to turn away but then faced Josh and in a quieter voice added, “They shot me too, Josh.” He away and by the time he got to his desk Leo had ushered everyone out of the room. Toby found himself once more hurrying along the corridor after Josh. “Hey! Wait up!” Josh stopped reluctantly and allowed Toby to guide him past Donna and into his office. “He didn’t mean it like it sounded, what I mean is he didn’t mean anything by it, you just said the wrong thing at the wrong time.” Josh sat down at his desk and started to pick up his messages. “Thanks, Toby, but it’s fine. Did you need anything I’m a bit pushed here?” Toby stared at Josh but he didn’t look back up at him so he left the room indicating to Donna with a subtle glance that she should go in. She waited for a few moments before doing so. Whilst Toby had been thinking of what to read to Sam, Josh had been doing the same. Toby had finally settled on a book called Freakonomics that was described as a quirky look at everyday life through economics. Toby could almost hear Bartlet and Sam discussing its content in detail. Josh had thought hard about what Sam might like. He’d even browsed the book that Donna had packed from Sam’s bedside table but in the end he settled on something that he knew for certain Sam read- the Washington Post. Both men arrived early one evening to begin their reading sessions convinced that was all Sam needed was to be brought out of himself. They found Michael sitting by his bed, nodding off in the warm room. Michael and Diane had come to an arrangement with visiting hours which meant neither had to see the other. “His temp’s up,” Michael announced as they walked into the room. “He’s sleeping most of the time and not making much sense when he’s awake.” Toby placed the book on the end of the bed and started taking off his coat while Josh rolled and unrolled the copy of the Post. “Sit down, Josh,” Michael ordered seeing Josh’s restlessness. “You know, I think I might go get something to eat, come back later, his temp will be back to normal by then.” He placed the paper on top of Toby’s book and hurriedly left the room. Toby settled into a chair and looked up to see Michael’s quizzical expression. “Ah, well, Josh is finding it all a bit, you know.” Michael’s puzzled frown told him that he didn’t know. “Josh has a problem with not being in control at the best of times so he finds this difficult. I think he thought he was going to come in here tonight read two sports reports and an article and Sam would suddenly be okay again.” Michael nodded. “Somehow I think it’s going to take more than that.” “Yeah,” Toby agreed. He leant forward and placed his hand on Sam’s forehead. “He’s burning. Has Dr Keel seen him?” “An hour ago but the nurses are in and out. They said it wasn’t any higher than it had been in the night.” Michael’s voice was casual but Toby didn’t miss how he was sitting with his hands held tightly in his lap or the frown that he had worn since Toby had entered the room. “I need to make a few calls. Will you stay?” “I’m done for the day. I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.” Toby pulled his chair closer to the bed and picked up the cloth from the bowl that had been left on the table. He wiped Sam’s face and neck and rinsed the cloth out. He started to apply it again but Sam moved his head away. Toby’s hand stilled and he waited to see if Sam was waking. Sam felt the coolness on his face and savoured it. He heard a familiar voice but couldn’t quite work out the words. He turned his head towards it and opened his eyes. Toby was there and asking him to do something. He tried to sit up and remember what it was that he hadn’t done. He wanted to apologise for falling asleep but the sofa was so comfortable. He closed his eyes again and thought about what he was meant to be doing. “Remember my speech to the environmentalists is coming up? I’ll need you for that, Sam. So we’ll make it a date shall we?” Sam’s eyes opened wide. The speech! The President was waiting for his speech. His hands moved restlessly as he tried to find the file. Maybe it was papers. Maybe he hadn’t put it in a folder yet. Toby frowned at Sam’s question. “What folder?” Sam’s hands moved more urgently. “What folder, Sam?” “Didn’t we…put in folder…Ginger knows…need find it…he’s waiting…said I’d…do…said I’d do it…” Toby was unnerved at how Sam was looking right through him. He stood up and leaned closer to him. “It’s okay, you gave it to him,” Toby said, without having a clue what folder Sam was talking about or who he was worried he hadn’t given it to. He placed a hand on Sam’s face and hoped his words reassured him. They didn’t. “No! I didn’t!” Sam tried to sit up. “Didn’t and never not…got it done…before…never…always get…it done.” With that Sam’s eyes closed and his frantic ramblings ended as abruptly as they had begun. Toby slumped into the chair and wiped his hand over his face. Michael returned and looked at Toby. He was exhausted and Michael couldn’t imagine how he managed to be here so often for Sam and keep up at the White House. “I grabbed a nurse out there and said that Sam’s not doing too well. She paged the doc. I don’t think Keel’s on tonight but she said she’d get Dr Nashton.” Toby glanced at Michael and nodded. Sam’s hand was moving restlessly on the sheet and a soft moan filled the space between the two men. His eyes opened slowly and he stared at the ceiling before lowering his gaze slightly to the door in the corner of the room. “Goblin,” he announced and Michael shot Toby a puzzled look. “What’s he waiting…for…what…he do?” Sam looked at the person sitting beside him and then across at the other man. “See it?” Toby shook his head. “I don’t see it, Sam, it must have gone.” Sam’s hand hit the bed weakly but his anger was clear. “Not gone…there…up there!” Michael followed his line of vision but all he could see was the door. It wasn’t the door Sam was looking at though it was the fluorescent green, exit sign above it. “See…there…waiting…bad. Do you…think…bad?” Sam asked, his gaze never once leaving the ‘goblin’. Michael looked again at the door and this time noticed the sign and realised what his delirious son was looking so fixedly at. “No, it’s not a bad goblin. I think it’s a friendly goblin just hanging out and keeping an eye on things.” Sam’s attention drifted from the sign and towards the voice that sounded so comforting. “Think so?” “Yeah, no doubt about it.” Michael caught Toby’s look and shrugged. “I haven’t got much to work with here, Toby,” he whispered, “what do you expect me to say?” “He taking… my air.” Toby leaned closer to Sam and took hold of his shoulder, shaking him slightly to get his attention. “No he isn’t, you have plenty of air. Here,” Toby lifted Sam’s hand so he could feel the oxygen mask, “this is giving you all the air you need. He can’t take that.” Toby removed his hand but Sam’s stayed on the mask and so the rest of his rambling words were muffled by it. “He’s drifting off again,” Michael said. He stood and stretched his back trying to work out the kinks that sitting by Sam’s bed for hours had caused. “I need to get back to the hotel for a while, Sarah’s coming to spend a few nights here and I said I’d pick her up from the airport.” Toby didn’t need to ask who Sarah was. He said goodnight to Michael and returned to Sam’s bed. An hour later he was joined by Josh who picked up the Washington Post and settled down in Michael’s vacated chair. “I was going to read to him,” Josh said quietly. “I know,” Toby replied. “So was I.”


	13. Against the Dying of the Light 13

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Thirteen “I think it’s great how you find the time to come see Sam so often and do all your briefings, and all the work that must entail, at the White House. I watch them when I get a chance and I think it’s great how you…answer those questions,” Dr Keel finished lamely and winced at his ineptness to describe just how impressed he was when he watched CJ facing the press. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I’m usually more articulate than this.” CJ smiled and laughed. “Believe me; I’ve heard worse descriptions of how I do my job. Although a lot of it’s to do with how I don’t answer those questions.” “Yeah, you’re particularly good at that!” Keel looked up and saw Toby and Josh leaving Sam’s room and immediately went back into doctor mode. “I’ve only just come on shift. Your friends are here but I’ll go find out what’s going on.” “Thanks,” CJ snagged his arm, “and thanks for the inarticulate praise. It was nice.” He smiled, nodded and hurried away. Josh looked at Toby but couldn’t read the expression on his face as he watched CJ approach them. “They’re trying to get his temp down so we got thrown out,” Josh explained as she sat down beside him. “He was babbling and muttering all kinds of stuff but then quietened down. His chest sounded bad. Did you think his chest sounded bad?” he asked, leaning over to look at Toby. “I did.” Toby glanced at CJ but looked away, his expression unreadable. “What?” CJ asked. “What?” Toby replied. “Your face,” Josh explained on behalf of CJ. “You’ve got a funny look on it like you know something that no one else does.” “There are many things I know that no one else does. Not least, how to sit by a hospital bed with a quivering wreck on the other side of it!” Josh nodded. “Yeah, Michael can be a bit emotional.” Toby smacked a hand against his forehead and paced over to the seats on the other side of the corridor. Michael returned with a pile of sandwiches and coffee. I thought I’d get a few things as I know from old you’ll be staying here a while and I bet none of you have eaten.” Josh took the tray off him and placed it carefully on Toby’s vacated chair. “You’re a good man, Michael.” Josh selected a sandwich and peeled the lid off a cup. “Is Diane coming this evening?” “She’s at a charity event in DC tonight. Apparently supporting the Women’s Health Fund is more important than checking on the health of her son.” An awkward silence followed in which coffee was sipped and sandwiches eaten until the door to Sam’s room was opened revealing Keel. “His temperature is down and he’s more lucid now.” Keel let them enjoy that news before continuing. “His temperature was high because he’s developed a chest infection. That’s to be expected really but it’s the last thing he needs in the weakened state he’s in. We’ve started treating him and hopefully we’ve caught it early enough.” Keel looked at the dejected faces before him and his gaze settled on CJ. “I’m sorry. I know it seems to be all bad news but we just have to try to take this one day at a time.” “Can we see him?” CJ asked. Keel nodded and wiped tiredly at his face. “Don’t tire him out though, he needs to rest.” Josh finished his sandwich, drained the last of his coffee and went to Sam’s room. His stomach lurched, as it often did, on recognising the unique smell of a hospital room which took him back to his own recovery and in particular the initial, painful, frightening days of it. Sam’s eyes were closed. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his breathing sounded laboured and painful. Josh sat down and reached for Sam’s hand through the rail. “Don’t open your eyes, Sam, just rest. I’m here and CJ, Toby and your dad are outside.” Despite Josh’s words, Sam’s eyes opened and wandered around the room before focusing and settling on Josh. “Keep getting…ill. Think…can take it…then just get more…ill.” He closed his eyes again and was quiet for a few moments. His hand squeezed Josh’s tightly. “Don’t like it…don’t…ill…want it to stop…had enough.” “It’s not for much longer. You just have to fight for a little bit more. Your chest is weak but it’ll get stronger again and then you’ll start feeling better and everything else will be easier.” Josh moved his other hand through the rail and placed it on Sam’s shoulder when he saw Sam shaking his head. “Sam, it will. You have to believe me. I know it’s tough now but it will get better if you hang in there.” “Too tired…Josh…don’t think…can…don’t think…want to.” “Sam!” Josh wanted to shake him, to shake the fight into him and the despondency out of him. He remembered Keel’s instructions that Sam needed to rest and breathed in deeply. He realised that he had Sam’s hospital gown scrunched in his fist and he let it go and placed his hand on Sam’s head instead. “I know you don’t think you’ve got any fight left, it’s a miracle you’ve got this far, but you have. You’re stronger than me- you always have been.” Josh straightened up and rinsed the cloth that sat in a bowl of cold water by the bed. He wrung it out tightly watching its colour change slightly as the soaked flannel lost some of its moisture. He wished he could wring Sam’s illness from him just as easily. He sat back down and saw that Sam’s eyes were closed once more but knew from the small smile that flickered briefly on his face when he wiped it with the cool cloth, that he wasn’t asleep. Sam’s mouth opened slowly but Josh stopped him before he could speak. “Don’t say anything, Sam, just rest, then you can fight, then you can heal.” He placed the cloth back in the bowl. “It’s the Lyman three-step programme.” Sam’s eyes opened slightly and the same small smile flickered across his face. “I like this ‘Sam not speaking’ thing. Normally you’d be making cutting comments about my programme.” Josh smiled at Sam and started to move away. Sam’s tight grip on his hand stopped him though. Josh bent down so that his face was inches from Sam’s. “You’re going to get through this, Sam. I won’t let you stop fighting.” Sam nodded slowly and held Josh’s gaze. He mouthed ‘I know’ and then closed his eyes, Josh’s hand cupping his face as he fell once more into the comforting darkness. Sam didn’t wake and so Toby, CJ and Josh left. Michael stayed and doodled patterns over a crossword as he sat by his son. The sound of Diane’s high heels approaching the room made Michael sigh and he folded the newspaper up and placed it under his chair. “Why didn’t you phone me?” Diane asked as soon as she entered the room. “Why did you have your cell phone switched off? I phoned the place where you were three times and left two messages on your cell. It’s not my fault if you’d rather be off swishing around in your…what in the hell colour is that meant to be anyway?” In the clinical and stark hospital environment Dianes gown made her look like she was in fancy-dress. She ignored Michael’s comment and went straight to Sam’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently shaking him. “Don’t wake him up! What the hell are you- Jesus! Diane, he can’t slip in and out of consciousness to suit your social calendar you know!” Diane straightened and stared at Michael with a hatred that still took him by surprise. She had hated him before she found out about the affair, but the embarrassment and loss of prestige the scandal had caused her had turned her hatred into venom so vicious it made Michael shiver to see it. “I know you’re enjoying your little Seaborn Senior fan club but I know the real you and so does Sam, deep down. Deep down he knows you’re nothing but a fake.” Without realising he was doing so, Michael reached for Sam’s hand and wrapped his own around it. “You’re son is lying here fighting.” Michael shook his head and took a deep breath. “They say that hearing is the last sense to go, well I hope to God that Sam can’t hear this because standing over his hospital bed coming up with lame insults is hardly likely to make him want to open his eyes anytime soon.” He looked up at her, forcing her to meet his stare. “Stay or leave, it’s all the same to me. But I’m staying so you’ll just have to put up with that I’m afraid.” Michael had beaten her on this one and she knew to carry it on or make another comment would just vindicate what he had said. Slowly she sat down and took Sam’s hand. They sat in silence, both focused on their son and trying to appear unconcerned by the presence of the other. Sam seemed better the next day. His fever had fallen and his eyes seemed more focused. That’s what Josh thought as he sat by his bed reading highlights from that day’s edition of the Washington Post. “Here’s one you’ll like,” he said folding the paper in half and resting it back against his leg. “U.S. Skipper in Contention for Match Race. American skipper Ed Baird is in position to win his first championship on the Swedish Match Tour, sailing's top professional match-racing circuit.” Josh paused and checked to see if Sam was listening. A few times he had got engrossed in an article only to finish and find Sam had drifted off again. Sam realised Josh had stopped and turned his eyes from the ceiling to his face. He nodded slowly to indicate that Josh should carry on. He liked listening to Josh and Toby reading. He couldn’t follow what they said for long but trying to concentrate on their voices stopped him from concentrating on the sheer effort it seemed to take just to draw a breath. “Baird, who represents America's Cup champion Alinghi of Switzerland, and Australia's Peter Gilmour, of Pizza-La Sailing Team, are tied with 102 points going into the season finale. But Gilmour has competed in one more regatta than Baird. The winner receives a $60,000 bonus and a BMW.” Josh stopped again. “Wow! Man, are we in the wrong jobs!” “No…sea legs…remember.” “No sea legs,” Josh agreed resignedly. Michael appeared carrying a bag and placed it by Sam’s bed. “The nurses said you could wear your own tops so I went to your place and got a few T-shirts. You want to put one on now?” Sam shook his head but held his hand out to show he wanted to see what his dad had chosen. Josh folded the newspaper and tucked it on top of Toby’s book on the bedside table. “I’ll go get a coffee.” “Thanks…reading to me.” When Josh had gone, Michael finished showing Sam what he had brought and then fished a cap out of the bag. He picked up the chair and took it over to the door. On seeing Sam’s puzzled face he explained what he was doing. “When your fever was high you kept going on about goblins and I realised it’s this exit sigh you can see. You mumble about them in your dreams as well so I thought if I covered the sign up it might stop you thinking about-” Michael was silenced abruptly by Josh who, being intent on not spilling his drink, had not looked up through the door’s window to see Michael standing on a chair on the other side of it. The bash of the door hitting the chair, the scrape of its legs as it slid slightly before toppling over and the sound of Michael’s cry of surprise followed each other in quick succession. A muffled, “I’m okay,” came from the floor. As quickly as he could, Michael stood up and moved into Sam’s line of sight. “I’m okay, Sam, your old dad’s okay. Just a few bruises and perhaps a sprain or two.” He shot an accusing look at Josh before turning around and staring up at the exit sign. “Hey, what do you know, the hat stayed on!” Sam couldn’t keep his head raised any longer and it sunk back onto the pillow but Josh’s grin was matched by Michael’s when they both realised that Sam was laughing. “I’ve seen Sam fall over his own feet more times than I care to remember but never, not once, have I drawn any humour from it.” Michael said. Sam’s eyes widened. “You…laugh at me…laugh until crying.” “Often that’s the case,” Michael admitted. He walked back over to the bed and kissed Sam’s forehead. “A few more of those smiles of yours will have me crying with laughter,” he whispered and Josh felt such a sudden and strong longing to see his own father again that he said his goodbyes and left the room. “Hey, Tobus.” CJ walked into his office and perched on his desk. “So what do you know that I don’t know?” Toby didn’t look up from his work. “I know that you’ve got a briefing in five minutes so should probably be somewhere else right now.” “I’m clued up on all angles and possible questions on all my stories. Now I want to hear yours.” Toby sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to get any peace until he had told CJ so he threw his pencil down on his desk and swivelled his chair to face her. “I know that a certain ER doc has a-” “Soft spot,” CJ offered. Toby nodded. “Yes, a soft spot for a certain Press Secretary and I also know that this soft spot is reciprocated.” “Can soft spots be reciprocated?” CJ asked. “I’m not sure but that’s what I know and I want you to know that I know so that you don’t have to fluffle around in the corridors to talk to him. I think it’s a good thing and I don’t know if you feel that you’re somehow being disloyal to Sam by pursuing a relationship while he’s in hospital but he’d think it was a good thing too.” CJ stared at Toby a knowing look on her face. “You know a few days ago when I said you were a Teddy Bear?” Toby nodded and looked wary. “Well you’re not only a Teddy Bear but you’re one of those ones that has a little pad in its paw that you can press to make it say something sweet and loving.” “Can you go now, please?” CJ didn’t move but then glanced at the clock and realising she had a minute to get to the briefing room, jumped off the desk and walked to the door. Once there she stopped and turned back. “Fluffle?” Toby shrugged. “I made it up. Speechwriters are allowed to do that.” CJ threw him a sceptical look before departing. Josh made a serious of strokes with his pen through a report he was reading and called for Donna. She appeared at the door alongside Leo. “Leo’s here,” she announced unnecessarily. “Yeah, thanks Donna, I might have missed that. Here’s a report for you to send back with politer comments than I’ve scribbled in the margin. Use the famous Moss charm.” “Moss’s aren’t famous for their charm.” “Have a go,” Josh instructed. Leo stepped aside for Donna to exit and then and walked over to the guest chair. “What’s up?” Josh asked, secretly perturbed by Leo’s unusual trip to his office. “Nothing, I just wandered how you’re doing.” Leo stared at Josh making it clear he expected nothing less than the truth. “I’m good. Sam seemed a lot better this morning. He was looking at me, you know? It’s like he’s back with us.” Leo nodded and sat back in the chair. “And how’re you doing?” “I’m okay, Leo, really. I’m not pretending I’m finding any of this easy and it’s brought up a few memories but nothing I can’t handle.” “You’ve spoken to Stanley?” “No, and I don’t need to. Honestly, Leo, I’m fine.” Josh wiped at his face and walked over to the window. “Well, as fine as I can be. I’d be a lot better if the doctors would say something more hopeful than ‘Sam’s holding his own’, or keep telling me how amazing it is he’s survived this long as if they’re expecting him to suddenly…” Josh took a deep breath and turned back to Leo a disarming smile on his face. “Okay, forget I said all that and just remember the ‘I’m fine’ stuff.” “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” He looked at him for a while. “Just make sure you’re not doing that candle thing, okay.” “Burning it at both ends?” Josh smiled. “That’s the one,” Leo nodded and headed back to his own office. A few hours later Josh was thinking about the conversation as he walked along the hospital corridor. If Leo had come to see him a few days ago he would have given him some very different answers to his questions. But, Sam seemed to be doing better, Josh, Toby and CJ had a good visiting roster going and somehow Michael and Diane had managed to come to some sort of ceasefire. Josh smiled as he entered the room, wondering if Sam was up to hearing the latest gossip from the Hill. That’s why it was such a shock when he saw two nurses by the bed, a doctor at the end of the bed reading a chart and another adjusting the switch on the ventilator that Sam was hooked up to. It was such a shock that Josh turned on his heels, walked outside and phoned Toby and didn’t go back in until he arrived.


	14. Against the Dying of the Light 14

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Fourteen Toby parked in the first bay he saw and hurried over to where he had seen Josh on his way past the entrance. He was breathless by the time he got to him. “What’s up, what’s going on?” “I don’t know.” “Josh!” “I don’t know, Toby, I just went into Sam’s room and saw he’s back on that fucking ventilator and I just, I just freaked I suppose and came out here and phoned you and once I’d done that I was ready to go back in but I knew you wouldn’t be long so I decided to wait.” “Is that the short version?” Toby asked grabbing Josh’s arm and leading him back into the building. Michael was getting into the elevator and on seeing Josh and Toby stuck his foot out to hold it. “I went home,” he started. “Sam slept through the night and woke up feeling okay so I went home to have a shower and breakfast and then I was just in the shower, I’d only just got in and-” Toby stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What happened?” “His breathing was rattling a little in the night but I thought it was because he was sleeping so well. His chest is still too weak to cope with the infection. He’s still too weak to cope with it. His condition worsened. The doc said it was very sudden. He didn’t stop breathing, nothing like that, but they had to intubate him again. He was struggling too much.” As one, Josh and Toby sunk back against the rail around the elevator. Both fearing this would be one setback too many. “Is Dr Keel on duty?” “Yeah, he was the one who phoned me.” Michael cursed as the lift went past the level they wanted and watched the light jumping from floor to floor. “He said they’d sedated Sam as he wouldn’t let them intubate them. He said he got really upset and that was doing him no good so they sedated him. A mild sedation he called it.” Toby sensed that Michael felt the same as him and Josh about Sam’s ability to cope with the setback. “So he’s not unconscious then?” Michael shook his head. “He’s awake or at least he was when they phoned me.” He watched the light indicate that the elevator was on its way back down. “At last,” he mumbled as it reached their floor and the doors opened. They walked quickly towards Sam’s room and seeing no doctors to talk to, they went inside. A nurse was sitting with Sam, holding his hand and telling him to relax and to try not to think about the tube. “Just let it do all the work, Sam.” She looked up at the three men who crowded nervously around the bed. “Ah, Mr Seaborn. Are you planning on breaking any more hospital chairs today?” she asked. “In all fairness the floor broke the chair, as well as my fall.” She smiled and shook her head and laid a hand on his arm as she passed. “I’ll page Dr Keel for you.” Sam had felt the nurse’s hand leave his own and coldness seemed to cover his hand and slowly creep up his arm. He knew the nurse’s name, knew it well, but for the life of him he couldn’t think what it was. A few moments later, mumbled voices drifted towards him then they stopped and the nurse’s hand was replaced with a larger one. It was warm and covered Sam’s. He couldn’t open his eyes. He wanted to but they were just too heavy. He tried to remember what the nurse had told him about relaxing and not thinking about breathing but it was hard. He felt trapped, pinned to the bed by the tube but that, he decided, was better than struggling and he had been struggling. He could remember the doctor telling him to stop. The pain had gone and there was no fear anymore. Sam felt like he was slowly but steadily slipping away and he welcomed the sensation. He thought about opening his eyes, searching for the face that matched the hand so tightly holding onto his, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. He felt a smooth hand stroke his forehead and a waft of a familiar scent told him CJ was also by his side. The voices drifted around him. Some he knew well but others he didn’t recognise. His father’s was the clearest and when he heard it he tried harder to open his eyes but still the lure of the darkness was too much. Eventually the pleas for him to open his eyes became insistent. He could hear Dr Keel’s commands clearly. He ignored them all. Later, the room became quiet and only one hand remained holding his. He felt the hand tighten around his. “Please, Sam. Please open your eyes.” Josh’s voice had wavered as he spoke and Sam didn’t want his friend to feel bad, so slowly and reluctantly, he forced his heavy lids to rise. “Hey, there you are,” Josh said quietly. “Stay with us, Sam.” It was a softly spoken plea but powerful nonetheless. Sam tried to reassure Josh but it was as clear to Josh as it was to Sam that he was worn out and had little fight left. “Please!” Josh begged but all Sam could manage in reply was a small, almost imperceptible nod before his eyes closed again. “The logs of Lincoln’s cabin were tested and found to date back to over thirty years after Lincoln was born. That doesn’t mean that the cabin is a fake though, it’s possible that some of the-” Bartlet stopped talking and looked over at Charlie. “Am I boring you?” “No, sir.” “Is it possible that you already know the amazing and captivating story of Lincoln’s log cabin?” “No, but it’s possible I already know all I want to about it.” Bartlet walked back to the door of the Oval Office. “Charlie, we’ve merely scratched the surface. I find the lack of desire to learn disappointing in one so young. I think you need someone to revive your love of knowledge.” Charlie’s face fell. He had told himself many times to remember that one in the morning was not a good time to sass the President. His face fell further as he watched Bartlet enter his office, gesturing for Charlie to follow him. They talked, or rather Bartlet talked, for another hour. The conversation led from log cabins to Lincoln’s recklessness with security and how that had been caused by a desire not to be viewed as weak after being caught entering a building in disguise after a death threat. That in turn led to a discussion of other famous assassinations, which led inevitably to Dallas, then Rosslyn and finally, Sam. Bartlet grew quiet, got up and poured himself another cup of tea and then returned to the sofa. “I spoke to Sam’s doctor today.” Charlie looked surprised. “I know you’re giving me updates from the hospital and I’m grateful but I wanted to speak to someone myself.” He took a sip from the cup and placed it on the table. “What’s going on? I know people behave differently when they’re ill and Dr Keel doesn’t know Sam like we do, but the man he described to me bore no resemblance to the Sam I know.” Charlie had only visited Sam a few times but he had talked about his visits to Josh and Toby and other people who had visited and the general consensus seemed to be the same: Sam was fading. Each visit, each day, he seemed to be getting further and further away. “Well, first of all, I can’t imagine going through what Sam’s been through. He’s been so ill but also it’s been setback after setback…” Charlie looked down at his hands briefly before straightening in his chair and facing the President. “But it’s like he’s not here anymore, like he doesn’t want to be here anymore.” Bartlet frowned and reached absently for his cup but set it back down without taking a sip. “Then in that case, I think it’s time for me to make another visit.” Toby had spoken to Dr Keel at length but by the time he returned to Sam’s room he didn’t feel any easier. If anything, he felt worse. Keel had taken Toby to his office and explained how Sam’s body could only take so much. He had told him that in many ways Sam was recovering well but that he was so weak that any setback at this stage was a major blow. His prognosis was hesitant and far from optimistic. Toby had walked slowly back to Sam’s room and tried to put a positive spin on Keels words but try as he might there was no way he could make himself feel better. Dr Keel had told him that if Sam recovered quickly from the chest infection he had a good chance. “By quickly…what’s the time frame?” For a brief moment, Keel’s gaze strayed to the floor but then returned to Toby. “I would expect it to take a few more days of intubation then maybe a week or so before-” “But for someone in Sam’s condition?” Toby butted in. “For someone in Sam’s condition-” Keel stared directly at Toby and his eyes said more than his words which followed. “I would expect it to take quite some time longer than that.” “And ‘quite some time’ isn’t really ‘quickly’ is it.” “No,” Keel shook his head. “No, Toby it isn’t.” Josh looked up as Toby returned to the room. “Where’ve you been?” “Just needed to stretch my legs.” Toby watched through the window as Michael hit ineffectively at the side of the vending machine. “Josh, when you’re ready, I think we should go some place and have a talk.” Josh didn’t turn around but remained staring at Sam. “Yeah, sure, just give me a minute.” Michael returned and watched Toby and Josh say goodbye to Sam. He followed them to the door. “I just wanted to say thanks to both of you, for being here for Sam.” “He was there for me,” Josh replied. “He always has been.” They walked towards the elevator. Toby glanced back at the room before rounding the corner. There was an air of finality to the night that was making him uneasy. He sped up to catch up with Josh. Josh listened patiently while Toby related what Dr Keel had told him. The beer Toby had bought him remained untouched. Even when Toby told him that he thought they should start preparing for the worst, Josh didn’t speak. When Toby finished, Josh unfolded his hands and placed them on the table. “I’m sure Sam would be really pleased to hear you given up on him so easily.” “I’m not. Josh, did you listen to a word I said?” “Yeah, I listened and you can be Mr Doom and Gloom if you want to but I’m not going to go along with it. Sam’s doing great. If he was going to…if he wasn’t going to make it he’d have given up days ago. He’s fighting and you should be too!” “You think I want to say this stuff? You think I find this any easier than you do?” Toby lifted his glass and drained it. He looked as if he was about to speak again but then got up, grabbed his coat and stormed out of the bar.” It was ten minutes later that Josh’s hands stopped shaking enough for him to be able lift his own drink to his lips. The call came during staff. Margaret knocked and then entered Leo’s office and spoke quietly to him. He broke into a grin and looked at his staff. “Sam’s off the ventilator. Doctor says his breathing’s much stronger.” Toby nodded slowly at the news. CJ broke into a grin that mirrored Leo’s and Josh sat down heavily on the sofa. “Now, get out of here all of you. And no one is sneaking off to the hospital today. It’s Cheese Day and you’re stuck with it.” “You let Sam off last year,” Josh pointed out. “And I’m letting him off this year too.” Leo put his glasses back on and sat down at his desk. He looked up and frowned. “You’re still here.” Toby, Josh and CJ walked back slowly towards their offices and the inevitable flow of lunatics that Big Block of Cheese Day brought with it. By lunchtime, Toby had had just about all he could take of designs for frog road crossings and the use of a cell phone to send messages into space. He took a bite of his sandwich and savoured the thirty minutes of sanity before his next appointment arrived. He rolled the wrapper into a ball and threw it into the bin. Whilst he had been pretending to listen to his visitors that morning he had been thinking of Sam. The news that he was breathing on his own again should have cheered him but it didn’t. He had lost the awful sense of foreboding that had accompanied him yesterday but it had not been replaced by relief or hope. He glanced at his watch. If he rushed through the next two appointments he could be at the hospital by three. Having made his decision, Toby went out to the Bullpen and told Bonny that if his next ‘lunatic’ was here, he’d see him now. Toby waited while a nurse took readings from the various machines Sam was hooked up to then straightened the sheets and made him more comfortable. While she worked she kept talking and tried in vain to encourage Sam to respond. She nodded and smiled at Toby as she walked past and he thanked her, knowing that if Sam was in a different state of mind he would have thanked her himself. But Sam wasn’t in a different state of mind. He was in the same state that Toby had seen him in for the past few days and he’d had enough of it. Watching Sam’s disinterest in what was going on around him only strengthened Toby’s conviction that he should say what he felt needed to be said. He walked over to the bed. Sam didn’t look at him and so he placed his hand over Sam’s. “Sam, it’s me.” Sam’s eyes opened but closed again on seeing Toby who sat down and sighed. He rubbed furiously at his forehead whilst thinking of how to begin. After a little while he leaned closer to Sam. “I know you’re tired and I know you’re scared but you-” Toby watched Sam turn away from him. “Sam!” Any doubt Toby had about what he wanted to say left him now and was replaced by a desperate anger. He shouted his name again and Sam opened eyes but didn’t face him. “You’ve given up!” It was an accusation and one that Toby hoped would garner some sort of response from Sam but he remained staring at the wall. “Look at me!” Toby struggled with the bedrail before managing to lower it. “Sam, turn your head and look at me when I’m speaking to you.” When he finally turned to face him, Sam’s expression seemed to be a mixture of fear and hopelessness but instead of pacifying Toby it had the reverse effect. “Damn it, Sam, fight this!” “Trying,” Sam mumbled. “Try harder,” Toby demanded. “Can’t.” “Yes you can!” Toby crouched down beside the bed until his eyes were level with Sam’s. “Stop lying there feeling sorry for yourself and thinking about how ill you feel, how tired you are and how hard it is, and start fighting.” Bewildered by Toby’s sudden anger, Sam tried to turn away from him but Toby wouldn’t let him and placed a hand on his shoulder pulling him back towards him. “Fight!” Toby pleaded. “Can’t…please listen…trying but can’t.” “Fight!” Toby repeated. “Nothing to fight…with…can’t…trying hard…but slipping…keep slipping…” Toby thought Sam’s analogy was spot on; he felt like Sam was slipping away too. He grabbed Sam’s hand in both of his. “Then hold on. Hold on and you won’t slip any further. I won’t let you!” Toby stared at Sam, trying to somehow force his own willpower into him. He didn’t understand Sam’s expression as he stared back at him until he voiced the word that made sense of it. “Sorry,” Sam said as his eyes closed and he fell back into the darkness that was becoming more and more welcoming to him.


	15. Against the Dying of the Light 15

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Fifteen Toby had walked out of the room and straight past Diane who was talking to a nurse. He kept walking, heading for the White House but carried on past it and continued his aimless wandering. A call from Josh forty minutes later was what finally pulled him back to the real world. “Where are you? Leo’s having some sort of weird cheese fit. I covered for you but you better get yourself back here.” “Yeah, I’m…” Toby looked around to see exactly where he was. “Look I’ll be there in five.” “Everything’s okay isn’t it?” “Yeah, everything’s fine,” Toby lied. He hung up and shook his head, trying to dislodge the replay of his visit to Sam. “That would be a good day to visit Sam,” Bartlet suggested as Charlie went through his diary for the next few days. “The day Mrs Bartlet goes to New York,” Charlie answered. “Actually it’s the day after she goes. You can never be too careful.” Charlie smiled and gently shook his head. “I’ll speak to Ron and give him the dates we’ve got.” “He’ll love it,” Bartlet said confidently. “He’s a sucker for clandestine visits to hospitals he just doesn’t like to let it show.” Charlie’s eyebrows rose but he said nothing. He was almost at the door when he was called back into the room. “How did you get on with that other thing?” Bartlet asked. “I think I’ve found the perfect one.” Bartlet smiled. “Good. I promise I’ll go with whatever you decide.” “Just like the carving knife?” he asked innocently. “Yes, exactly like that.” Charlie sighed deeply. “I’ll have a few alternatives ready.” “What did you say?” CJ repeated. She had been with Toby for a few minutes and although she had drawn from him that something was wrong and that it was to do with something he had said to Sam that was all she had managed to ascertain. “It doesn’t matter.” Toby looked up and saw Leo heading towards his office. “I need this like I need a whole in the head.” He stood up as Leo entered. “Before you start your cheese sermon, I’ve kept all my scheduled meetings. I just hurried them through a little.” “Hurried them through?” Leo queried. “Yeah, it was a processed cheese day.” CJ snickered at Toby’s comment but then saw the expression on Leo’s face. “I need to go meet with a man who thinks the alphabet as we know it is a little muddled.” Leo looked at Toby. Any inclination he had to lecture him about skipping out on cheese day had long since gone. He looked awful. Leo took in the dark circles, permanent frown and pale complexion as if seeing him for the first time. He sat down on Toby’s sofa and shook his head. “It’s a hell of a thing to have to keep going when all you want to do is go be with your friend.” Toby glanced up sharply. “When I’m here you’ve got my full attention. No deadlines have been missed. Sam’s work has been spread out amongst the staff.” “I’ve got no complaints, Toby. You’d know if I had.” With a nod of his head, Leo indicated that Toby should sit down which, reluctantly, he did. “I’m saying it’s a hard time you’re going through. We all are. Josh is about as useful as an intern at the moment and before you ask, I’ve told him. He accepted it and pointed out that an intern would probably have more energy.” Toby smiled and relaxed back in his chair. “Is there anything I can do? Would it make things easier if I found a proper replacement for Sam?” “No!” Toby’s response was heard out in the Bullpen. “No, that wouldn’t help. Anyway, where would we put the flowers?” Leo had seen the bouquets in Sam’s office that had been arriving steadily and were dealt with by Ginger and Bonny. He shrugged. “Fair point.” He waited until Toby looked up at him and held the eye contact. “He will pull through, Toby. I know you may not believe that now but he hasn’t come this far just to give up.” For a brief moment Toby felt like confessing his outburst to Sam earlier and the emotion, that he was beginning to suspect was regret, building up in him. Toby spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening going over and over what he had said to Sam. He swung from being positive that he had done the right thing, to an almost paranoid fear that what he had said would somehow cause Sam to give up once and for all. He avoided Josh and managed to dodge CJ as well. He went home earlier than usual and had vague notions of going to bed early with a good book and even better bourbon. He was in the process of locking up for the night when he said out loud, “This is ridiculous!” grabbed his keys from the hall table and set off for the hospital. By the time he got there he decided that he had been right and Sam had needed a bit of forceful encouragement. He decided that he would follow it up with some more gentle persuasion. Perhaps try to convince Sam how needed he was. Maybe even hint that he needed him. He wouldn’t apologise for what he’d said, it needed saying. By the time he stepped out of the elevator he had convinced himself that he’d find Sam keen to listen to his advice, perhaps a little contrite at having waited so long to realise that he needed to fight. He approached the room and saw the agent posted outside grimacing. Bartlet had insisted that until Hannity had been tried and sentenced, Sam would remain protected. An array of different agents had settled into a team of three. It was Gary, the oldest of the agents who was standing outside Sam’s room now. “Jesus,” he muttered shaking his head and still grimacing as Toby approached him. “I don’t know how he stands it.” Toby’s confused expression at his statement soon disappeared as he heard what Gary was referring to. The sound of retching could be clearly heard coming from Sam’s room. Toby knew that Michael often stayed late into the night and he had spent a few nights by Sam’s bedside himself but he had thought that Sam’s sickness was under control. “I think he has bad dreams,” Gary confided softly and Toby nodded. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Neither Sam nor the two nurses noticed his arrival. Sam retched painfully over the bowl that was held out for him. One of the nurses stroked his back reassuringly. The other handed Sam a glass and told him to rinse, not swallow. His harsh breaths filled the room and Toby winced at the pain he could imagine accompanying them. Sam started retching again. He spilt the glass of water; it covered him and ran under the bed clothes. “Nearly over now,” one of the nurses said soothingly. “Try to relax and breathe.” Sam nodded but his frantic gulps for air displayed his inability to calm down. “Does your chest hurt?” he was asked and he nodded. “More than usual?” he nodded again. More retching, more gasps of pain, more frantic breaths. Toby forced himself to watch the scene but made no move to let Sam know he was there. “Sam, you really need to calm down now. I know you can’t get your breath but you need to really concentrate and remember the breathing exercises we did earlier.” Both of Sam’s hands were clutching the sheet, his fingers working desperately at the folds of material within them. One of the nurses went to the phone on the wall and a few moments later Toby stepped aside to let a doctor enter the room. “How long?” he asked the nurses. “Fifteen minutes.” The doctor quickly examined Sam and his eyes were suddenly illuminated as a torch was shone into them. Toby was struck at how wide with fear they were as the light briefly displayed them. “Sam, I’m going to give you something to help calm you down.” He turned away from the bed and prepared the injection. “I know you don’t like this but you need it. It won’t put you right out just help calm you down, okay?” Sam shook his head. He tried to tell the doctor that he didn’t want the drugs but he was unable to form any words beyond ‘no’ so he repeated that. The drug worked quickly. Sam stopped speaking and gradually his breaths slowed. He mumbled that he didn’t want to sleep, that he didn’t like the dark, that he didn’t want to go. Silently the nurses worked around him, making occasional reassuring noises as they removed his soaked top and sheets. Toby watched as Sam was rolled one way and then the other as the sheets were stripped efficiently and new ones placed beneath him. They rummaged through his bedside table and found a top still in its wrapper that Josh had bought and placed that on him. It was only after all this that one of them looked up and saw Toby. “Mr Ziegler!” She walked over to him. “It’s very late. Are you going to stay?” Toby nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Sam. He felt a hand on his arm and looked back up at the nurse. “His fever is high. He gets disorientated when he wakes. He’ll sleep now but it will be good for him to have someone here when he wakes up.” She left the room, followed by the other nurse who smiled at Toby as he pulled a chair towards the bed. He stared at Sam. Even sedated, he wore a slight frown. Toby held his watch under the bedside lamp to see it was two in the morning. He took off his coat and tie and reached for the book he had yet to read to Sam. He read two pages then replaced it on the shelf. Sam had shifted slightly and his face was turned fully towards Toby. The sound of his scratchy breaths filled the room and occasionally his breathing would hitch and Toby would hold his own until Sam’s next shuddering breath out. He fell asleep and dreamed that he had written a speech but given the President the first draft and had to stand in his pyjamas while the abysmal speech was delivered and the assembled dignitaries laughed at him. He woke with a start, his mind whirling with words which were regretted and the impossibility of taking them back. Sam was awake and murmuring something that Toby couldn’t make out. Toby watched him for a moment before leaning closer to the bed and gently placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he told him but Sam didn’t react to his voice or touch. His gaze roamed restlessly across the ceiling. His hair was damp and his forehead covered with sweat. Toby reached for the bowl of cold water that was a permanent fixture by the side of his bed and wrung out the cloth. The cold sensation against his face made Sam start and he moved away from it. “Who…who? Where’s David?” Toby removed the cloth and chewed at his lip, wishing Michael or Josh were here both of whom he thought would handle Sam’s delirium better than he could. “David’s not here,” Toby hedged as he tried to place the cloth back over Sam’s forehead. “Do the trees know?” The question was asked with such sincerity that Toby paused before answering not at all sure if the trees knowing would be a good or bad thing. “I don’t think so,” he hedged. “Good…good…” appeased by this, Sam allowed the cloth to be wiped against his face and neck. “Dad?” “No, it’s me, Sam, it’s Toby.” Sam turned to him but Toby knew that he wasn’t really seeing him. “Toby…” Sam said the word as if learning it anew. “Toby...” He frowned and his hand wiped clumsily at his forehead. “Toby…you know…you were there…” “Where?” Toby asked and it was almost comical how Sam repeated the word back to him. But the look on his face and rising agitation were far from funny. “When we go…walk…we stay back…not near rope…stay back with me…safe then…wait for others to go…stay back…will you?” “Yes.” Toby was relieved it was clear what the answer Sam wanted was. “Yes, best…go last and don’t…don’t go near ropes.” Sam’s face was earnest as he tried to persuade Toby. “Been thinking…about it…thinking and we’ll be…be…safe if we let…let them go first…no guns at back…didn’t shoot there…just ropes…just there.” “Okay, Sam, we’ll do that.” Toby sighed as he watched Sam relax and sink back against the pillows. The reprieve was short-lived though, Sam’s head sprung up from the pillow and he twisted to where Toby was sitting. “Tell others…tell them…tell Josh…CJ…tell them…tell-” “Okay, okay, calm down, it’s alright, I’ll tell them, I’ll tell them.” Not knowing what else to do, Toby reached for the cloth once more and ordered Sam to lie back. He kept up a litany of reassuring words as he wiped the cloth over Sam’s face. He kept it up until Sam’s hand released its tight hold on the bedrail and fell back onto the sheets. His breathing was louder than Sam’s as he collapsed back against the chair and absently wiped at his own forehead with the cloth. Realising what he was doing, he let out a small chuff of laughter and shook his head as he dumped it back into the bowl. Sam’s eyes were closed and his breathing returning to a more steady rhythm. Toby watched his chest slowly rise and fall until the darkness and quiet lulled him to sleep once more. When Toby woke again, it was to the sound of activity around the bed. He pretended to still be asleep and watched a nurse he didn’t recognise taking a reading from one of the machines by Sam’s bed. “Do you still feel sick?” she asked and Toby peeked at Sam’s top and realised it had been changed again. He caught Sam’s shake of his head before closing his eyes again. When he opened them he watched Sam’s face in the light that was now coming into the room from the corridor outside. Sam didn’t move but his eyes followed the movement outside as nurses, cleaners and doctors went about their morning tasks. Toby couldn’t tell if Sam was lucid or not. He seemed to be focused but somehow overly concentrating on the flurry of movement outside. Slowly, Sam’s gaze turned towards the ceiling and lingered there before his eyes closed. Toby had been in the hospital this early a few times but on those occasions he had been too caught up in events to truly take notice of what was happening around him. But now, sitting quietly in Sam’s room, he watched the hospital come to life and realised that this was a scene that Sam had witnessed countless times. He wondered if it was the same every morning and if Sam recognised the routine or if he just lay there and let it all happen around him. His thoughts were interrupted by a movement from the bed as Sam turned towards early morning sun through the window before seeing his visitor. “Toby!” A small smile flickered across Sam’s face but was replaced with a frown. “Why are you here?” Toby wondered if Sam was going to start talking about David and trees again but when he didn’t Toby answered. “You had a bad night, Sam, so I stayed.” Sam nodded and sighed and his gaze returned to the window. If someone had asked Toby a few weeks ago what colour Sam’s eyes were he would have had to think before replying but all he seemed to do recently was stare at them hoping for some sign that Sam was fighting or at least not giving up completely. They were blue, Sam’s eyes. Bluer, Toby thought, than any eyes he had ever seen before. Maybe it was the blue top Sam was wearing but this morning they seemed even bluer. Still no sign of any spark there though, the spark that Toby had seen so many times before but not given a second thought to. “How are you feeling?” Sam looked back at Toby but didn’t reply. He shrugged and then looked away. Toby moved his chair, gaining Sam’s attention again. “Do you want me to go?” Sam shook his head as quickly as he could. Toby couldn’t read the expression on his face at first. He waited until Sam’s eyes fell on him again and then he could read it only too well. He started to shake his head in a bid to stop whatever apology Sam was about to make. “Toby…I don’t…” Sam trailed off and returned to looking at the ceiling. “I’m tired, Toby…can you…understand that? Tired and can’t…make myself…” Sam’s eyes closed and when they opened they rested on Toby. “Sorry…letting you down…know that…but can’t…and don’t like people hurting…because me…people wanting me…better…don’t want that…so I’m sorry.” Toby grabbed Sam’s hand. “I shouldn’t have said, yesterday, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know you’re trying and don’t worry about us. Just think about getting better, that’s all. I know you’re-” Toby’s words were cut off as two nurses entered the room. One went immediately to the machines and picked up Sam’s notes on the end of the bed. The other poured a glass of water for Sam before placing the empty jug onto a trolley. “Rough night, Sam, but here we are- another beautiful morning.” Sam nodded and tried out another smile. He turned to tell Toby that he didn’t mind about what he had said but he was too late, Toby had already gone.


	16. Against the Dying of the Light 16

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Sixteen Charlie waited for Bartlet to return from Leo’s office and then walked up to the desk and proudly placed the box on it. Bartlet looked at Charlie over his glasses. “This is the one?” “Without a doubt,” Charlie replied with his fingers crossed. Bartlet opened the cardboard box and pulled out a wooden case. He rubbed his hands together. “Looking good so far, Charlie.” Carefully he opened the stiff latch and pulled the lid upwards. The chess pieces lay nobly in line and the brass plaque sent splinters of light to rest on Bartlet’s face. He smiled and nodded. “This is the one alright.” He picked up one of the pieces and held it up to the light. Carefully he removed the rest of the pieces and pulled out the chess board that lay beneath them. “Okay, I want to write a message and then you can take it over to Sam.” Charlie nodded and left the room, relieved that Bartlet was happy with what had only turned out to be the fourth chess board that he had selected for him. CJ chewed on her pencil for a while before throwing it down on her desk and walking outside to Carol. “Can you step inside for a minute?” Carol frowned at the unusually formal request and followed CJ into her office. CJ pointed her to the sofa and then perched on the desk. “Okay,” she paused and picked up a pen pot, “Okay,” she said again before replacing the pot and joining Carol on the sofa. “Are you going to fire me?” Carol asked. “No!” “Okay, because it feels a little like you’re about to fire me.” CJ turned to face Carol and opened her mouth as if to speak then closed it again. “CJ!” Carol cried in exasperation. “Okay, here’s the thing. Dr Keel-” “Does he have a first name?” Carol interrupted. “I don’t know but I think it may be Ronald. He’s asked me to go to a doctors’ dinner, they’re not eating doctors you understand, it’s a dinner for doctors.” “Okay, that’s good. So what’s the problem?” “The problem is that I’ve been on a few dates now and I really like him but it just feels, I don’t know, wrong. I keep thinking I’m going to the hospital to see Sam but a part of me is looking forward to seeing Richard.” “You go see Sam as much as you can. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t be visiting Sam so much if Dr Keel wasn’t there?” “No!” CJ stood up and walked back to her desk. She perched on the edge and studied her shoes for a while. “No. I just have this whole simultaneous emotions things going on and it’s making me wonder if I should just put this thing with Richard on hold for a while.” “What, until Sam dies?” “Carol!” CJ stared in shock at her. “Sam would absolutely hate it if he knew you were even having this conversation. You know that.” Carol watched CJ relax and return to the sofa next to her. “Anyway, are you seriously telling me that if it were you in a hospital bed, Sam would hold off on a budding relationship with a pretty doctor?” CJ frowned. “A female doctor or a male one?” Carol repeated her question. “Well, do you?” CJ looked up at Carol and smiled sadly. “Yes, I do, I think that’s exactly what he would do.” Toby walked as slowly as he could along the corridor. He had spent the last day and night thinking of nothing but what he had said to Sam. He had made enormous blunders in statements and speeches, leaked comments that had caused untold trouble but never had he wanted to take back words as much as wanted to take back what he had said to Sam. Spending the night with Sam and having it brought home to him again just how sick he was, made Toby realise that he had no right to demand anything of him. It was early and Toby saw a nurse checking a chart and a cart’s contents and knew that the drugs trolley was about to do the rounds. He decided to wait a while longer. It had been hard enough summoning the courage to come here without being interrupted so that Sam could take his various meds. He grabbed a cup of water from the cooler and sat in the chair opposite Sam’s room. Nodding at the agent, he took a slow slip and went through what he planned to say. Finally, although too soon for Toby’s liking, the trolley was wheeled into and then out of Sam’s room. Toby finished his water, threw the cup away and walked briskly towards the room. Sam was sitting up when Toby entered, the pillows puffed up behind him making him look tiny and in danger of being engulfed by them. Sam looked up and smiled. He could remember Toby’s last visit and was glad to see him again. He knew he wanted to say something to him to make him feel better about something but couldn’t quite remember what. He watched as Toby paused before sitting down by the bed. “Sam, I wish I’d said this yesterday but-” Toby stopped mid-sentence. “How are you feeling?” Sam shrugged slightly. “Okay, how are you?” “I’m fine, Sam, fine. I-” Toby laughed nervously and ran a hand over his face. “I’m not fine, actually. I feel terrible. The other day -” Toby paused, he wanted to say what he had to say as quickly as possible but at the same time he was very aware that Sam found it difficult to follow what was being said to him. “Do you remember the other day when I came to see you and we talked about you getting better?” Sam nodded slowly forming a frown as he tried hard to concentrate on what he was sure was something very important. “I was upset, Sam and I said some things…I told you… I was angry, Sam, not with you but with the situation and I told you to fight and I’m sorry that I-” Toby stopped and took a deep breath. It was hotter than usual in the room and he pulled at his collar to loosen it. He looked back at Sam who was waiting for him to continue. He looked away again before continuing but reached through the bars and took Sam’s hand. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to make you feel that you’re letting anyone down or that you have to worry about how your friends and family are feeling.” He covered Sam’s hand with both of his and leant closer to him. His voice was quiet and it wavered slightly. “If you don’t want to fight then don’t. I know you’re tired and everyday is a struggle. If you want to let go then let go. But know this; you make a difference, to your friends, your family, to the President, to me. You’re worth fighting for, Sam. Don’t forget that.” Toby and Sam stared at each other for a moment then Toby squeezed his hand, stood up quickly and walked out of the room. Sam stared at the spot he had sat for a while longer and his words stayed with him, tumbling around his head for longer still. Time passed. For Josh it passed agonisingly slowly. Even Donna kept her distance as his mood became unbearable. Toby grew even more withdrawn as the days passed without neither improvement nor a worsening in Sam’s condition. CJ was thankful for Richard. He didn’t talk about Sam unless she did and when he did it was not as a doctor but as a partner who was becoming increasingly concerned about the stress she was under. The President was angry. The news that Hannity had been convicted of a number of charges that amounted to a lengthy jail sentence did little to pacify him. Leo, as usual, was the glue. He made allowances but he also made it very clear that they were here to do a job and if anyone thought they were unable to do it at the moment they should say so. CJ, Toby and Josh were all glad to be at work. At least at work they could try to forget what was going on. It was during Sam’s sixth week in hospital, early one morning that Charlie made his way along the corridor and towards Sam’s room. He hadn’t been able to visit Sam as much as the others but he had talked to the doctors and nurses everyday in order to report back to the President. Charlie entered the room, carefully holding the package in his arms which he placed on a chair by the side of the bed. “Hey, man.” Sam’s eyes opened and smiled on seeing Charlie. “Hey, you.” Having placed the parcel on the chair, Charlie crouched down beside the bed. “Get a chair,” Sam said looking around for another chair. “No, I’m good. I can only stay a while. The President’s giving a speech in New York later so I need to get back pretty soon.” Sam nodded and tried to think of something to say. He was grateful Charlie had come but he found it hard to talk to his visitors. He had nothing to tell them and no interest in the West Wing, so he relied on them to keep up the conversation or read to him as Josh and Toby so often did. “The President said to tell you that you’re in his thoughts and Mrs Bartlet sends her love.” Sam smiled on hearing that and nodded slowly. “I’ve brought something with me. It’s a gift from the President. He had me looking in every store in DC for this. In the end I found it online.” Charlie started to open the box. “As usual he knew exactly what he wanted it just hadn’t occurred to him to check to see if the thing he wanted actually existed!” He lifted a wooden box out of its cardboard container and placed it carefully on the end of Sam’s bed. “Let’s get this down for a while,” he said as he lowered the bedrail and moved the box closer to Sam. Looking down at it he nodded to indicate that Sam could open it. Sam’s hand slowly moved over the shining mahogany. His fingers traced over the brass inscription on the front of the case and he looked up at Charlie who nodded and smiled. Sam flicked the latch up and pushed the lid away. He tried to lift himself higher up the bed but Charlie stepped up immediately and held him forward while he rearranged the pillows behind him. “Thanks,” Sam said before pulling the box towards him. Now that he could see its contents a smile lit his face and he sat and stared at it for a while before reaching in and taking out one of the pieces. It was a pawn. Sam held it up and looked up at Charlie. “Lewis Chessmen.” Charlie shook his head. “It’s a sad thing when a dude like me knows enough about chess sets to be able to tell you an in-depth history of the Lewis Chessmen.” Charlie reached into his pocket and held out an envelope. Sam’s confused state had been made worse by increasing lapses in his short and medium term memory. Dr Keel hadn’t noticed at first as Sam was so rarely lucid for long enough for him to gauge his memory of recent events. There was nothing wrong with Sam’s long-term memory though and he recognised the president’s script immediately. He took the envelope and placed it on his lap. Charlie placed the set on a table by the window and then raised the bedrail. “Maybe it can be set up over there,” he said pointing to the table. “You can tell Toby and Josh your moves and then I’ll tell them the President’s.” Sam nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Hope Chicago goes okay.” Charlie walked closer to the bed and took Sam’s hand in a firm grip. He was about to correct him that it was New York but stopped himself. He didn’t say anything. He simply tapped his chest with his fist and left the room. For the rest of the afternoon, Sam looked alternately at the letter on his bedside table and the box on the table. He was waiting for Josh to come. Josh usually came at seven on weeknights and read from the Post, concentrating mainly on the sports pages. Tonight Sam wanted him to read Bartlet’s letter to him. He had no idea of the time that passed while he waited for Josh. He knew that his mother had spent some time with him and asked more than once what the box was. She’d gone to lift it off the table but Sam had stopped her and told her to leave it. His father had been too. He had made no attempt to move the box but had walked past it a few times pretending not to peer into it. Eventually Sam had told him to sit down. “Chess set,” he had informed his father. “Ah, who’s it from?” “President.” “Of course! Who else?” He grinned at Sam and smoothed some hair away from his forehead. “So, the old Pres is a chess man, eh?” Sam rolled his eyes and started to tell his dad there was no way on earth he was going to get to play chess with the President but a coughing fit stopped him and by the time it was over he didn’t even remember that they had been talking let alone what they had been talking about. Afternoon turned into early evening, another round of meds, a talk with a nurse and an assessment by a doctor who had asked him question after question about what day it was and where he worked and what his name was and what day it was and where he worked and who was the President of the United States- that one had made Sam smile. The next question was who has visited you today and he stopped smiling. He didn’t have a clue. Josh had had a bad day. His day had been made worse by his mood which had led to him snapping at Donna, shouting at Toby and hiding from CJ. He took the stairs instead of the elevator to the floor Sam was on and by the time he had walked up the three flights, he had altered his demeanour by comforting himself with the knowledge that no matter how bad his day had been, Sam’s would have been a whole lot worse. On entering Sam’s room he wondered if Sam’s day had been worse after all. Sam sat in bed watching the door and when he saw Josh he looked pleased to see him. Recently when Josh had visited he had made it to the bed before Sam even looked at him. Josh smiled and pulled up a chair then reached in his bag for the Post but Sam stopped him and held up the envelope. “No, read this.”


	17. Against the Dying of the Light 17

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Seventeen Josh took the envelope and, like Sam, recognised the handwriting. Sam had been trying desperately not to fall asleep while waiting for Josh and he blinked to clear the fog that kept appearing before his eyes. Seeing his struggle to stay awake, Josh opened the envelope and began to read. He pulled his chair closer to the bed so the words he spoke were just between the two of them. “Dear Sam, I want you to know that you are constantly in my thoughts. In all of our thoughts I should say. Toby refuses all offers of help and locks himself away in his office. Water Cooler gossip has it that he’s being a lot nicer to his staff at the moment so we are all a little worried about that. Josh, just between us is-” Josh stared at the letter unbelievingly, “take this with a pinch of salt, Sam,” Josh said before carrying on. “Josh, just between us, is acting like a loop-case, obviously that isn’t worrying us all that much; it’s not much more than his usual level of loopyness.” Josh stopped reading again, mumbled something and then continued. “So, what I’m trying to say here, Sam, is that you are missed a great deal as a colleague and more importantly as a friend. I know it’s a longer fight than anyone imagined it would be but I also know you are one of the strongest people I know and I don’t just mean physically. This is a fight you will win. Now, as you’re reading this, I gather that Charlie has already given you the chess set. I’ll wait until you’re up to it but I thought a game might while away some hours for you. My board is ready to go- just tell me when you’re ready. You make the first move.” Josh stopped reading and scanned the first few words of the next paragraph while taking a swig of water from a bottle. “Oh man!” he moaned and rolling his eyes, he told Sam he was going to love the next bit. “Now to the chess set itself. It’s a Lewis chessman set named after the Isle of Lewis, actually pronounced Lews, in the northernmost of the Outer Hebrides. In the spring of 1831, the sea eroded a sandbank on the West coast at the South shore of Uig Bay, uncovering a stone building formed somewhat like a baking oven. This curious structure caught the eye of a peasant, who proceeded to break into it. Inside were 78 pieces, carved in Morse ivory which are thought to belong to eight or more incomplete chess sets. These Romanesque visages are unique in the annals of Medieval Art. Nothing quite like them has been found before or since. The replica set that you have was made on the Isle of Lewis by local craft workers using local stone - Lewesian Gneiss, a form of granite - which is crushed and cast to a unique finish. When you’re back at work I’ll tell you the whole story and the myths which surround the Lewis chess pieces. Well, I should sign off. Leo is standing in the doorway and I have a feeling I’m meant to be somewhere else. Now Charlie is standing in the other doorway so I should definitely be somewhere else. They’ve got me surrounded, Sam. I’ll say goodbye for now but my thoughts and prayers stay with you. Ron was very happy to hear of my request to visit you again. I will see you soon. My very best wishes, Jed Bartlet.” Josh folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the envelope. There was silence for a while. Sam nodded towards the table by the window where Charlie had left the chess set. “Take a look.” Josh was able to lift the lid of the wooden case without taking it out of the box. He lifted one of the pieces up and studied it. “Hey, shall I set it up?” Sam’s eyes were closed but he nodded. He could hear the slight whooshing sound as the case was pulled out of the snugly fitting cardboard box, then the board being laid on the table and finally the sound of the pieces, one by one, being placed on it. “I’m not a chess man,” Josh said as he worked, “I’m more of an outdoorsman. Do all the same colours go the same side?” Sam’s eyes opened at that and he stared across the room at Josh. “Just kidding,” Josh sent a lopsided grin back at him and Sam smiled and closed his eyes as sleep finally claimed him. Josh scratched his head and looked again inside the mahogany box in hope of finding a diagram or illustration of where the pieces went. He settled back into the chair, glanced at his watch and smiled at the realisation that Michael would be arriving soon. His smile vanished as he imagined the chess jokes that Michael would now add to his sea leg ones. CJ woke with a start. She listened to the intermittent beeping but didn’t recognise it. Still groggy she reached for the alarm clock and the phone before realising it was neither. A hand snaked out from beneath the covers beside her followed by a very sleepy head. Like CJ, Richard Keel moved his hand over the contents of the bedside table. He knew what he was looking for. He pulled the pager under the covers and CJ laughed and pulled them off him. He shot her a look but it didn’t have much affect combined with his sleep tousled hair and squinting eyes. CJ laughed again at the sight of him. “Read the bleeper before I bleep you!” “Hmm, bleep me…” he rolled towards her, “that sounds like fun.” He kissed her softly and then reluctantly looked at the number to call. He snaked one arm out and around CJ and reached for the phone with the other. CJ closed her eyes and relished the feel of Richard’s arm tight around her and then his fingers absently swirling in her hair. “If I let you bleep me will you let me bleep you after?” CJ’s reply was cut off as the phone at the nurses’ station was answered. “Dr Keel here…yes I was asleep, it’s 2am…who…when…no that’s fine I told you to call me if there was any change…about twenty minutes…who’s on call…okay…see you I’ll be about twenty minutes.” CJ expected Richard to turn to her and apologise for having to go back to work. She couldn’t care less. If he could live with her work schedule then she could certainly live with his. She felt the bed dip slightly as he turned back towards her, placed his hand on her cheek and softly said, “It’s Sam, we need to go.” Toby had had a hard time getting to sleep, so when the phone rang at ten past two he answered it with a voice that expressed his displeasure at being woken. “It’s Josh. We need to go to the hospital.” For a brief moment Toby saw the wall opposite him zoom towards him and then back again. For a brief moment he lost all sense of time and motion. Then, he heard Josh call his name again and he took charge, knowing instinctively he would only get through whatever this night was to bring if he did. “I’ll pick you up. Wait for me on the stoop, I’ll be five minutes. Does CJ know?” “Yeah, she phoned me.” “Okay. Five minutes.” Toby swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took two deep breaths and whispered a prayer before rising. It was a coincidence that the night Toby, Josh and Sam’s parents were called into the hospital was the same night that Bartlet chose to pay a late night visit to Sam. Josh would later say that it was more than a coincidence, that it was fate and nobody who was in Sam’s room that night would disagree. When Toby and Josh arrived CJ was already there. Neither man stopped to think how she had got there before them nor did it occur to CJ that they would. Everyone was too focused on Sam to pay attention to trivialities of who was sleeping where or with whom. CJ was pacing the corridor her arms folded around her as Toby and Josh exited the elevator. “What’s going on?” Toby asked. “I don’t know. Richard got a call to say that Sam was worse but that’s all I know. He’s been in with him since I got here.” It wasn’t a clever way to steer away from the fact they arrived together, CJ had parked the car and followed Richard up to Sam’s room but had found Richard already in with Sam and had been waiting for ten minutes for news. “So, he’s been in for a while then? That’s got to be good. He wouldn’t be in there so long if…” Josh trailed off. “That’s got to be a good sign, right?” Toby looked at him and then across at the elevator as it pinged again by way of introducing Michael and Diane. This time everyone did wonder why they were arriving together but again, thoughts of Sam quickly made any others irrelevant. Michael looked at Toby questioningly but Toby told him that they didn’t know anything. The five placed themselves around the corridor. Josh studied the contents of the vending machine while CJ paced and Toby hovered by the door to Sam’s room. Michael and Diane sat a chair apart but seemed closer than anyone had yet seen them. They had been with other people when they had first heard the news that Sam had been admitted to hospital but this time they were both alone when they had received the call and both had instinctively reached out for the other. It was Michael’s partner that had told him to call Diane. ‘She’s alone, Michael. Put it all away for just this night’ she had urged him and he had. A phone call to a hotel and a shared taxi later and they were actually speaking civilly to one another. Everyone spun around when the door to Sam’s room opened. Richard Keel came out and scrubbed at his eyes. He walked over to Michael and Diane and the others followed forming a tight circle around him. “About an hour ago Sam’s blood pressure dropped. His breathing is extremely laboured. He’s conscious but very confused. He’s very weak now, weaker than he’s ever been. I said at the start that if someone survives the initial hours of strychnine poisoning they have a good chance. Sam has amazed us all, he’s survived six weeks but that survival has come at a cost and-” “Oh, God, he’s dying.” Josh’s words halted Keel who seemed to slump slightly on hearing them. He sighed heavily, “You should go be with Sam.” Diane Michael caught hold of her and guided her to a chair. Toby and Josh stared at each other and CJ walked to the far end of the corridor where she started to pace slowly from side to side. After a few moments Michael stood up and cleared his throat. “Diane and I will go in first. Maybe we can ask Dr Keel how long we can spend in there and how many of us can go in?” “Just go to him,” Toby told Michael. “Take as long as you need, none of us are going anywhere.” Michael nodded and walked towards Sam’s room closely followed by Diane. It was a sort of in-between world that Sam found himself in. He heard snatches of conversation around him. The constant whir of the fan by his bedside was unnerving and he couldn’t even feel the cool air which issued from it. When he opened his eyes he could only make out shapes and as the voices grew more distant, the shapes around him did too. He had no strength left. He was sinking, he knew he was but he couldn’t stop it. Everything was growing more distant. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from the voice beside him. He ignored it. It was in the distance. Toby sat in the dayroom and stared at the poster in front of him. ‘Give Life- Give Blood’ the motto read. Toby read it and reread until it became an endless string of words. “Do you think I should phone him?” “Who?” Josh sat down beside him and rubbed his hands together nervously. “Leo, I was thinking we should call Leo.” “I don’t know. Maybe we should call Charlie?” “They’d want to see him to say… They’d want to see him.” Toby nodded and went back to staring at the poster but all eyes turned to Sam’s room when Diane emerged from it. “Michael wants a few moments and then you can go in. Dr Keel wants no more than two at a time.” Diane was wearing the first thing she could lay her hands which happened to be a pair of sweatpants and a sweater. She wore no makeup and was not trailed by the overpowering perfume she normally wore. In the subdued night-time lighting of the corridor she looked, for the first time, like a vulnerable and frightened person. Toby stood up and offered her his chair and Josh asked if she’d like him to get her something to drink. CJ walked over and gestured for Josh to move. She took Diane’s hand and held it in both of hers. Diane looked up at her in surprise and tensed slightly before slowly allowing herself to be comforted by Sam’s friend who she had paid so little attention to before. Toby went first. On seeing Michael exit Sam’s room he had glanced at Josh but he had shaken his head, indicating that he wasn’t ready. Toby opened the door quietly. Everyone was being very quiet tonight. He stood at the end of the bed and stared at Sam for a while. The oxygen mask, fan and bleeping machines were the only sounds in the room. Toby had hated it when he could hear Sam’s raspy breathing but now he longed for it. Anything was better than the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were closed although the lids tried to flutter open sporadically. Toby let go of the bedrail, surprised to find his hands were wrapped so tightly around it. He sat down and reached for Sam’s hand. With his other hand, he gently stroked the hair away from Sam’s forehead. He whispered a prayer and then leaned closer to Sam so that his mouth was beside his ear. “Fight.” It was an order and a prayer and a plea in one urgent word. Toby kissed Sam’s forehead and then quickly left the room. He walked past everyone and kept walking until he was outside. It was raining. Toby was glad as it meant his tears wouldn’t be so obvious when he went back inside. Josh didn’t sit on one of the chairs but lowered the rail and perched on the side of the bed. He too took Sam’s hand in one of his and placed his other on Sam’s head. “The doctor said you could probably hear me so hear this. I’m here, Sam. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. I told Toby you’re fighting and you’re not giving up.” Josh gently stroked Sam’s face. “Prove me right, Sam.” CJ went in next. She had little to say. She had planned a whole string of encouraging words but once sitting next to Sam’s bed she found they deserted her. She rubbed his hand gently and placed a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll be here in the morning, Samshine.” The strength of her tone implied that she knew Sam would be too. Then there were no more visitors. Sam had heard the voices, heard them trying to break through to him. A part of him had tried to respond but a bigger part knew he was beyond that now. The dark that had always been so comforting before was trapping him. He wasn’t afraid of floating anymore, he was afraid of sinking. He was being pulled down now and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Outside, his friends and mom and dad sat. Mostly in silence, but occasionally one of them would make a comment or try to offer some words of comfort to the others. Josh stayed alone at the far corner of the corridor. The fluorescent light from a fish tank beside him sent a rippling pattern along the wall but his eyes were focused on the cars’ lights that passed along the street below. He hadn’t phoned Leo, Charlie or Donna. He had decided to wait another hour and for another prognosis. He hoped in an hour keel would be able to tell them Sam had improved and there would be no need to phone anyone. He lifted his finger to the glass and drew shapes in the condensation. His finger slipped and drew a sharp line as he heard a voice behind him that he knew well. “Taking the stairs isn’t a security measure, Ron, it’s a way to pay me back but I hope you are noticing my healthy demeanour and lack of breathlessness after three flights.” Ron was about to answer Bartlet when he rounded the corner and saw the group sitting and standing outside Sam’s room. Bartlet saw them too and stopped causing an agent behind him to nearly topple into him. “Toby?” Bartlet questioned. Diane watched as Toby stood up and walked over to the President and quietly told him what was happening. A tall, moustached man spoke to the President clearly trying to persuade him to do something. But Bartlet shook his head. “Well then you better do just that because I’m staying right here.” Without another word he walked over to Diane and sat beside her. “Mrs Seaborn, I’m Josiah Bartlet. I hope the presence of Sam’s friends will be of some comfort for you and him tonight.”


	18. Against the Dying of the Light 18

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Eighteen Sam was listening intently to the President who stood at his desk, his hands resting on its surface. “The crofter discovered that the tide had eroded the sandbanks and had uncovered what appeared to be a small stone-built cairn or chamber. Upon further investigation he discovered that inside the chamber lay seventy eight chessmen carved from Walrus ivory. The crofter sold the chess men to the British Museum for £80, being a poor crofter he would have found this amount of money a virtual fortune as it would have taken him several years of hard labour to accumulate such funds.” Bartlet looked up at Sam over his glasses. “Still with me?” “Yes, sir,” Sam answered although he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. “The chessmen depict various figures such as church dignitaries and Norse warriors of the period but sadly the collection came from a total of eight incomplete sets and the missing pieces have never been found. The skilled…” Bartlet stopped and reached out towards Sam. “Sam, what is it?” “I don’t know…it’s tilting, the Oval Office is tilting…” It had been an hour since Bartlet had arrived and slowly the small group had congregated in Sam’s room. The nurses worked around them and Keel shook his head at the number of people in the room but made no attempt to make them move. Toby sat in the corner, his arms folded across his chest his gaze on Sam. Josh was by the window trying to focus on the traffic but being constantly pulled to the image of the heart monitor that was reflected in the window before him. CJ sat next to the President who was sitting with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. On either side of Sam’s bed sat Michael and Diane. Bartlet walked over to the bed and stroked Sam’s forehead. “Hold on, Sam.” “Hold on, Sam,” Bartlet called but Sam was already on the floor being swirled away with a channel of water out of the office and down the West Wing corridors. He tried to grab hold of the doorframes as he passed them but he couldn’t keep his grip. He passed Toby’s office and managed to hook his fingers around the door. The water rushed over him, he choked and gagged and tried to raise his head. He cried out Toby’s name but Toby was engrossed at his desk reading a newspaper. Sam called his name again and he lowered the paper and looked straight at him. “Fight!” Sam tried to tell Toby he was but the water was in his mouth and he couldn’t speak. His fingers slipped off the doorframe as Toby turned back to his paper. The corridor was endless. As he passed the open doors he could see people working, ignoring him. The water lifted him so high he was pressed against the ceiling and he frantically turned his face to the side to draw a desperate breath. It was Diane’s cry of Sam’s name that drew everyone’s attention to the bed. Since they had arrived Sam hadn’t moved. His eyes had only opened briefly and there was no indication that he was aware of who was with him. He had called out for Toby but apart from that had made no sound. His breathing had remained shallow and seemed to be getting shallower as the night wore on. His sudden movement startled Diane and her exclamation startled everyone else. Sam was moving, ever so slightly, but he was moving. His breathing was becoming harsher and more rapid. One hand grabbed the bedrail and the other pushed against the bed as if he was trying to push away from something. His head was turned to the side. It was Toby who slipped from the trance they all seemed to be in and reached past Michael to buzz for a nurse. CJ followed his example and left the room quickly to find Richard. The water level suddenly dropped and Sam went spiralling down towards the floor. He tried to get his footing but the water returned and continued to carry him along. He could hear his dad calling to him, telling him to hang on but there was nothing to hang on to. A beam of light told him that he was heading for another doorway. He grabbed hold and tried to keep his head above the water. He could see Josh standing at his office window and called to him. He didn’t turn around and so he called again. Josh walked over to the doorjamb folded his arms and leant against it. “I’m here, Sam. It’s alright. I know you’re fighting, you just need to hang on.” Sam reached out but Josh turned away and returned to the window. There was no more light. Sam was drenched in water and darkness. He called uselessly for his dad and tried to listen for his voice but the sound of rushing water was too loud. He felt the walls of the corridor beside him and sensed they were closing in on him. The floor that he had been washed along ended abruptly but he managed to hang onto the ledge as his body dangled hopelessly over the bottomless cavern beneath him. The water was rushing directly onto his face and he choked as he tried to lift his head out of its path. “Nice and easy, Sam, just relax, breath nice and slowly for me.” Although the words were comforting, Sam shook his head, “Can’t…drowning …slipping…can’t hold on.” He felt the fingers of his left hand slowly losing their grip. He swung his legs but there was nothing beneath the floor to gain any leverage on. He was tired. Too tired to hold on and he let his hand slip away from the ledge. His head was beneath the ledge now and being covered by the water that tumbled over it. “Sam!” He was being shaken he could feel hands on him but it was too dark to see who was there. “Sam! Come on, Sam, open your eyes.” Sam could hear more voices calling to him and he tried desperately to pull himself up so he could see over the ledge. He managed to get a grip with his left hand and could just see the end of the corridor. The voices were clearer now and as he listened he could make out the people who were standing at the end of the tunnel. Toby, Josh, CJ and the President were all calling to him, telling him to fight, telling him to hold on. He couldn’t see his mum or dad and called out their names and they replied, their voices closer than anyone else’s. “Here, we’re here, Sam. Open your eyes, we’re right here.” Sam could feel their hands holding onto his. He tried desperately to help them to pull him over but he had nothing to give; his legs were dead weights dangling beneath him. He cried out then, begged his parents to help him and he felt their grip tighten. He could feel the hands holding onto him and he pulled and pulled in an effort to get over the ledge. He cried out again to tell them he was drowning. Again the pressure tightened. The water lapped at his chin. Sam managed to get one elbow onto the ledge. His mouth was filling with water. He could no longer breathe. His head was submerged and he felt himself slide away from the ledge. He was pulling against the hands now, trying to let go. “Damn it, Sam, fight!” The desperately shouted words pulled Sam upwards, out of the water, back to the ledge. He grabbed hold again and put everything he had into one final heave. His head came over the top of the ledge and he could see the hands that where holding his. He pulled on them again and was lifted, lifted away from the ledge, up and over it. “Shush, shush, it’s okay, honey.” Sam’s mum stroked his forehead and willed his unfocused gaze to find her. Sam was coughing and spluttering as if his mouth really was full of water. His hands were still held by his parents and he concentrated on the pressure until he could convince himself the ledge and the water was gone. Keel entered the room followed by a nurse. He quickly started to assess Sam’s condition and the nurse asked Diane and Michael to move away from the bed. Josh wrapped his arms around his middle and stared at Sam. Everyone had been totally caught off guard by Sam’s sudden movement and cries. They had watched him struggling to wake up, to come back to them, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they had almost lost him. They were ushered out of the room and back into the corridor. Not a word was spoken. No one dared to tempt fate by saying what they all believed to be true. Sam had fought and won. Richard looked more tired than CJ could remember seeing him as he emerged from Sam’s room and walked over to the small group standing close by. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “They’ll have to rewrite the medical books. Well, the chapter on strychnine poisoning at any rate. It’s still too early to say for sure but it looks like Sam’s going to pull through. His blood pressure has risen and his breathing has improved. He’s lucid but exhausted.” Keel looked up at the President. “He told me to tell you to go home, sir.” Bartlet smiled at that and shook his head. “Ron will be pleased.” “He’s asleep now and I doubt he’ll wake anytime soon but if you want to go back in, can I please ask that it’s no more than two at a time.” His words were greeted with a chorus of earnest nods. Sam woke an hour later. His eyes felt heavy and he listened to the sounds around him before opening them. He could hear words being whispered and then recognised CJ’s voice. She sounded far away. The occasional sigh he could hear was nearer. He recognised it as his mother’s and then felt the hand that held his, and the thumb that stroked soothingly across his wrist. The machines were still buzzing and whirring but they didn’t frighten him now. He knew what they were and he knew he would be free of them. There was no noise from outside of his room and he guessed it was night or very early morning. From another corner of the room he could hear paper being rustled and realised that there were more people here than just his mum and CJ. Sam was aware of a gentle tapping sound that punctuated the silence every so often. It was wondering about this sound and its origins that finally made him open his eyes. The light of dawn was creeping above the buildings Sam could see through the window. In front of the window sat Michael and the President. It was Michael’s move and he was looking down at the chessboard frowning while Bartlet sat with his arms folded, a knowing smile on his face. Sam slowly turned his head to the next occupant of the room. Toby had been the cause of the paper rustling a few moments ago and as Sam watched him he struggled again to turn a page without making too much noise. He pulled a pen from his pocket and started to study the crossword. Sam’s eyes closed again. He was beyond exhausted and the simple act of focusing on who was in his room was already tiring him out. He forced his eyes open again and looked over the end of his bed where CJ sat next to Richard. She was asleep and her head rested against his shoulder. Finally, Sam turned towards the other side of the room and saw Josh. He was standing at the window that looked out onto the corridor. His hands were in his pockets and his forehead rested against the cool glass. He turned around slowly and glanced at Sam. For the first time in a few hours, Sam had moved and although his eyes were closed his head was turned towards Josh. He walked softly over to the bed and sat opposite Diane. “Sam? Are you awake? Can you hear me?” Sam fought against the desirable pull of sleep and opened his eyes again. He couldn’t remember much about the last few hours but he knew he’d had some sort of battle and it was a battle that his friends had helped him to win. He had brief glimpses of a tunnel, water, falling and his friends’ voices calling to him, pulling him back. He looked up at Josh and smiled. “Made it,” he said, almost a whisper. “Yeah, Sam, you made it.” Josh smiled and then laughed as he gently took Sam’s hand. “You made it.” Bartlet left the hospital soon after Sam had fallen asleep. He sneaked out through the housekeeping department just before the sunrise turned into the first full glow of morning light. CJ left not long after him and Josh and Toby shared a knowing smile when Richard was spotted leaving the staff room a few seconds later. Michael and Diane decided to go home for a while and return later in the morning. Josh and Toby stayed. They sat on either side of Sam’s bed as they had done so many times before during the past weeks. Josh was nodding off when Sam first stirred. He felt Sam’s hand move beneath his own and sat up straighter in his seat, blinking rapidly to dispel his blurred vision. “Hey!” He leant forward and waited for Sam’s eyes to open. Sam opened his mouth to say hey back but all that came out was a croak. Toby leaned over for some water but put it down again and carefully raised the head of the bed before reaching for the cup again and placing it in Sam’s hand. It was soon clear that Sam wasn’t going to have the strength to lift the cup let alone the coordination to get it to his lips so Toby lifted it for him. He took a long sip of the water, coughed, took another one and then turned away to indicate he was done. “Everyone gone?” Sam asked. His eyes darted around the room. He thought back to whom he had seen in his room but wondered now if he had imagined it. “Your mom and dad have gone back to their hotels for a while. CJ’s gone to work and the President-” “He was here,” Sam interrupted. “I thought I saw him when…thought he was here.” “We were all here, Sam. All night,” Josh added. Sam was battling to keep his eyes open. “I know you were. I heard you calling me.” His eyes closed. Josh and Toby stared across the bed at each other. They didn’t talk about what Sam had said, or try to explain it. They had witnessed Sam fighting and coming back to them, now they knew they had helped Sam win. “Actually it’s a pink ribbon but we’ll let that slide. What I’m saying is that while I like a nice teddy bear as much as the next man, I don’t think having one in my office is going to fly.” “It could sit in the corner, under your desk, you could put it on top of-” “Dad! Will you just put the teddy aside for the children’s unit and stop talking to me.” Sam rolled over so that he was facing away from his dad who was busy sorting out Sam’s presents and cards now that he was due to go home. “I’ve been very ill and you should be treating me with kid gloves not confronting me with homeless teddy bears.” Michael smiled as he placed the bear by the window and finished piling some cards up before walking over to the bed. Sam had turned away in mock annoyance but once facing away from the sunlight and Michael’s movement was quickly starting to doze off. It had been three weeks since Michael had sat all night by Sam’s bed surrounded by his son’s friends. Sam’s recovery was painfully slow but every day he was getting stronger. At first, Dr Keel had insisted that Sam had few visitors. After the initial euphoria at him so obviously turning the corner in his illness had faded, everyone had to accept that there was still a long way to go. Sam slept for most of the time and when he did wake he was lucid but often too drowsy to do much else than say a few words before succumbing once more to his body’s need for sleep. His short term memory problems were obvious but Dr Keel’s assurances that they would disappear in time made them easier to cope with. Josh and Toby visited in the early evening. CJ tended to visit in the afternoon. Sam’s parents visited frequently. Sam was aware of the new understanding that they seemed to have and relished the occasional visits where the two found themselves at his bedside at the same time. Sam didn’t talk about what had happened to any of his visitors. He wasn’t interested in the man who had been imprisoned for poisoning him and killing nine other people. Josh understood this perhaps more than any of the others. He remembered feeling numb when he was told about the Rosslyn shooters and knew that if Sam wasn’t ready to hear it then there was no point trying to get him to talk. There was plenty of time for Sam to talk, Josh decided. All he had to concentrate on for now was getting better. So Josh continued to visit, read the sports reports and fill Sam in on what was going on at work and wait, determined that when Sam did want to talk he would be there to listen.


	19. Against the Dying of the Light 19

**Against the Dying of the Light**

**by:** Coupdepam

 **Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** There's something wrong with the coffee...  
**Written:** 2005-11-25  


* * *

Chapter Nineteen The smell of coffee wafted out of the Bullpen and towards Toby’s office. There was always coffee on and at certain times in the day when it had been freshly made, its aroma filled the Bullpen and surrounding offices and Toby paid it little attention apart from taking it as a reminder that he needed a refill. Today though Toby smelled it and immediately darted out into the Bullpen and told Ginger to switch the machine off. “Why?” Ginger asked, “Are you trying to cut down? It’s a little late in the day to be reducing your dependency on-” “Turn it off. It’s Sam’s first day back and I’m thinking the least welcoming thing we can do is fill the place with the smell of coffee!” Ginger’s smile disappeared and she nodded as she quickly unplugged the machine. Toby knew the gesture was a futile one as there was no way the West Wing would function for any length of time devoid of caffeine, but he also wanted Sam’s first day to be as easy for him as possible and if going without coffee for a morning would enable that it was a small sacrifice to make. Sam was outside. He would have denied the accusation that he was lingering but lingering he was. Tony had spotted him a few minutes ago and had busied himself serving coffee and pretending he wasn’t there. His last customer in the queue swore when Tony spilt his coffee on seeing Sam approach. “Sorry, here you go,” he hastily refilled his cup and offered him a complimentary bagel. By the time the man had gone, Sam had walked up to Tony’s stall. “A hot chocolate and a cinnamon Danish, please,” Sam said. “Funnily enough I’m off coffee at the moment.” Tony held out his hand which was shook warmly by Sam. “My wife told me, she said I didn’t have to worry but I’ve felt so damn guilty, you…all those people.” “You came to see me,” Sam said. “I did. You weren’t awake but I stayed a while. I wanted to see you, to apologise.” “My dad said you’d been. He said you’d stopped running your stall.” Tony shrugged. “For a while. It just didn’t feel right. It was my wife who convinced me to go back to it.” Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. “She made you realise it wasn’t your fault?” “No, she said if I didn’t get out and start earning again she’d be on the first train to her mother’s.” Sam shook his head. “Back to work for you then, Tony, and me.” Tony handed Sam his drink and pastry. “I can’t begin to tell you how good it is to see you.” “It’s pretty good to be here. Tomorrow I’ll get you up to date on the latest basement operations.” Tony laughed. “You do that, Sam, you do that.” When Sam arrived in the Bullpen, the first thing he noticed was the absence of the familiar smell of coffee and he asked Ginger if the machine was broken. She fumbled through an explanation while Sam looked at it and realised what had been done. “It was Toby’s idea,” Ginger offered immediately. Sam just smiled and plugged it back in. “I was poisoned by strychnine, not coffee. While it’s fair to say I’ve puked every time I’ve tried to drink it, I still, believe it or not, like the smell of it.” Ginger responded by pulling Sam into a hug and asking him if he’d like a cup of tea. Sam was finishing the drink when Toby peered, for the fifth time that morning, around his door. “How you doing?” “I’m doing okay. How are you doing?” Sam put his glasses onto the desk and smiled up at Toby. “It’s okay. You don’t need to keep hovering.” Toby raised his eyebrows at the accusation. “I’m not hovering. Josh hovers, I assess.” “Okay,” Sam sat back in his chair. “So what’s your assessment?” “You’re okay.” “Exactly.” “And not in any imminent danger of a relapse.” “Not that I’m aware of.” Toby nodded and stepped into Sam’s office. “Good.” He walked over to the window and looked out for a few moments before walking over to the shelves and browsing Sam’s books. “Toby?” Toby turned and looked at Sam. “You’re sort of hovering and it’s not that I don’t like it in a protective, big brotherly type way, but it’s really quite unnerving.” Toby nodded again and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go now.” “Okay, well thanks for dropping by.” An hour later, Sam had been visited by Toby three times, CJ twice, and Josh four. He finally gave up and went to the Mess when Donna came for the second time to remind him to eat something. Sam could get used to the concern of his friends, what he couldn’t get used to were the constant stares from other staffers, the way people he didn’t know stopped him and welcomed him back and the endless requests from the media to have an exclusive interview with the ‘man who survived against the odds’. Sam saw his illness as a private thing and the realisation that every moment of his progress and recovery had been national news still made him cringe. He was grateful for all the good wishes, a little humbled by the countless cards and flowers but still a part of him wanted to sneak away and hide until all the fuss had died down. He took an unusual route back to his office in order to avoid any more well-wishers. Once back in the Bullpen he walked over to Toby’s office. “They keep staring at me.” Toby was sitting at his desk, Josh standing beside him. They were deep in conversation but both stopped and looked up when Sam entered. “Who?” Toby asked. “People, I don’t even know them. I just went to the Mess and people were staring and then coming over and telling me how much I must have fought and how much they admire me and how hard it must have been.” Sam sat on the sofa and stared at the window. “They don’t know anything about it, they don’t know if it was hard or not or whether I fought or if I did, how much.” “Was it?” Sam turned away from the window and turned a puzzled expression towards Toby. “Was it hard?” Toby repeated. Sam looked up at Josh and Toby and then back to the window. “It wasn’t hard to start with. I don’t think, I can’t really remember the start of it. I know I was confused a lot of the time. I remember having seizures, I can remember them. I remember not being able to breathe. I know that you were there.” Josh walked over to the sofa and sat beside him and Toby pushed his chair away from his desk and turned it towards Sam. “Then, I remember fighting but every time I felt like I was breaking through something else would happen. I’d wake up and be attached to that mask again or I’d be trapped in a world where I couldn’t reach anyone. I think I just wanted to stop waking up.” Sam’s revelation wasn’t really one at all. Toby and Josh had both seen him slowly giving up, but still, the knowledge that it had been a conscious decision on Sam’s part struck both men hard. Unaware of their reaction, Sam continued. “I felt bad because I knew everyone was worried and although I couldn’t always tell what was being said or even who it was by my bed I knew they were frightened. It just became too hard to keep trying to fight against my own body.” He turned to Josh. “I was so tired.” “I know,” Josh nodded and waited for him to continue. “Remember that night you read me the President’s letter?” Again, Josh nodded. “You set the chessboard up. You were joking about something I think.” Sam fell silent and didn’t see the concerned expression Josh turned to Toby or the slight shake of his head in reply. “I had a dream…it was a dream but it was real too…I could hear you calling and see you but not where you were…not in the room, it was…I was somewhere else but I think your voices were real. You told me to hang on,” Sam said to Josh. “And Toby, you told me to fight…I think you did…I heard you…but it was a dream so I can’t have done. But dream or not, I knew if I let go I’d never…” Sam shook his head. “What I mean is I’d never…if I’d let go…I don’t think…” “You knew you’d die,” Toby finished for him. “Yes.” Sam nodded. He leaned back into the sofa and stared at his feet for a while before looking back up. “Am I sounding like a freak?” Normally, Sam would have expected Josh to reply to a comment like that with a wisecrack and Toby to simply affirm that he was a freak. Neither man spoke and their silence made Sam more uncomfortable than telling them about his experience had. Toby scratched at his beard and looked briefly at Josh before returning his gaze to Sam. “Everyone who was in your room that night felt something. You were going to die, Sam, I knew it, we all did. But you didn’t, and that alone is miraculous enough for me. I don’t think any deity, force or mother ship was at work, you chose to live, you chose not to die and maybe it’s just as simple as that.” Sam returned Toby’s gaze and for a moment Josh was almost jealous of the bond that had grown between the two men but the knowledge that Sam was still here to be jealous over made him smile and as he did he rose, pulled his coat on and threw Sam’s at him. “Take me to a bar and buy me many drinks for you, my friend, have just reached a whole new level of freakdom.” “I actually think Toby was being a bit freaky there too,” Sam pointed out. Toby grumbled a reply but it was half-hearted and he was already pulling on his coat and following them out of the door. “If we want them on our side then we have to go after Hagin. I think it’s about time we stood up to them. I think it’s about time we said we ‘know whose side you’re on and it’s the wrong one’.” Sam folded his arms and nodded to indicate he was done. His words had been strong and he waited for Josh, Toby, CJ or Leo to reply. When no one spoke, Sam looked around at them and studied their faces. He was almost back to full health, and had been back at work fulltime for two weeks. The memory lapses were becoming less frequent and had long since stopped having uncomfortable silence follow them. Sam frowned and looked at Leo. “I’ve already said this, haven’t I?” “About ten minutes ago,” Leo answered. “Damn!” Sam shook his head. “Did it go down better the first time?” “Not so much,” Leo said. “Okay.” Sam sat back down. “Do you want to wait a few minutes, see if I have another memory lapse and let me try again?” Josh walked over to Sam and put his arms around his shoulder. “We could, Sam but I’ve got to tell you that it’s unlikely we’d agree anymore with you than we did the first two times. You spoke well though, I was impressed with your points and the way you delivered them.” “I could have died, Josh, I could be dead right now. Everyone seems to have forgotten that.” “I haven’t.” Everyone turned to the doorway to see the President standing there, hands in pockets. Everyone had spent as much time as they could with Sam during his recovery and recent return to work but Bartlet had seen very little of him since his last hospital visit. He walked over to him now and sat beside him. “Everyone else can go and do their jobs. Sam and I are going on a little trip.” “We are?” Sam turned a puzzled expression to Toby who shrugged in reply. Bartlet took off his glasses and leaned back into the chair. “Abbey knows this guy who worked on the Sky Vision projection system at the Einstein Planetarium.” Toby couldn’t help but smile at the thought that most people when told that information would have little to say in reply. He watched as Sam’s eyes lit up. “The digital projection system that the West Germans gave us for the Bicentennial celebrations?” “The very same.” Everyone else in the room might as well have been invisible as the President sat forward and turned to face Sam. “Six-channel surround sound and duel projection. The sensation of flying through the cosmos enveloped in colour saturated, moving images and spine tingling sound.” “You got that from the brochure, right?” “Yeah, except for the spine tingling thing.” Bartlet stood and gestured for Sam to follow him. “Toby, Sam may be gone for some time but on his return I promise he’ll be writing words that soar. Leo, I’ll be back later, I’ll probably be pretty much the same when I return. Right, we’re off to experience the sensation of flying through the cosmos.” “And there may be some spine tingling involved,” Sam called over his shoulder as he followed the President out of the room. CJ, Leo, Toby and Josh stood and stared after him for a few moments. The room was silent as each friend was lost in contemplation of what it meant to have Sam back and how close they had come to losing him. “What, you don’t have your own offices anymore?” Leo asked. He watched as CJ, Toby and Josh exited his office and then he returned his gaze to the door through which Sam had left. He smiled, it lingered and remained on his face even after he had replaced his glasses and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.


End file.
